Last Judgment
by tofu-melon
Summary: /DNHPxover/ Harry Potter, defeated by Voldemort, is lost and found in Winchester. Picked up by a strange muggle with an equally strange orphanage, he is reborn to the world as a simple muggle detective: L.
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

Lacerate, laconic, leader, latent, legato, legendary, last judgement...

L.

He was originally Harry Potter... before he was defeated by the Dark Lord and took the Magic out of his life. By the next morning he found himself wandering the streets of the muggle world.

"Where you from, boy?"

The winter in Winchester was harsh, biting at bare skin like an animal. Harry faintly realized he was numb of all senses as he warily glanced up at a tall, gentle looking man. Harry licked his dry, bloody lips... the man looked like Dumbledore...

"... N-nowhere..." Harry rasped, hardly shocked at how hoarse his voice was... he had not talked for the past two weeks after all.

"Would you like to belong somewhere?"

Green eyes stared up almost bored at the stranger... with an unmistakable glint of hope in those depths, "Please... I can't live with this by myself..." he choked, heat coming back to his face as his blood rushed.

A hand that stretched out towards the forsaken savior like a gift from whatever holy deity might be residing in the clouds... if only Harry Potter believed in God.

He took the hand and allowed the man to pull him up to his feet, catching him when he wobbled, "Come now, what is your name?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself short and shook his head, "Will you choose a name for me to go by?"

The man looked skeptical, blinking at Harry with half-opened eyes. His elderly face finally broke into a small smile, "I always believed that humans should make their own paths. Come along, it's nippy outside, we shall find shelter for now."

The only thing that pacified Harry about this Dumbledore-like man... was that he was not magical. An old muggle with a strong grip and kind face.

Harry Potter was cast away that day.

-be continued-


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"We could be _killed_ by Victoria."

Harry lazily curled up in his nice, cushioned seat and watched as a young Matt peeked out from behind him. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly as not having slept in the last two days, "_We_ won't be..." with a small grunt, Harry pushed out of the seat and walked away from the stiffening boy that used him as a shield just a few seconds ago, "You will though," he smiled sweetly and waved his hand, "Bye."

It was easy enough to ignore Matt's sputtering as he watched the dark-haired youth abandon him, settling himself on going out for game of tennis.

Harry had settled in The Wammy's House five months ago. Most of the children running around were younger than himself. The stranger that had picked him up had been the founder of the prestigious orphanage, Quillsh Wammy.

Harry was not immediately introduced to the children. The staff of the institution had spent a week on the pale and weak boy, trying to bring him back into suitable health.

"Stunted growth, he must've been underfed earlier in his life," the resident nurse Sarah Hoffman muttered to herself while walking around the sleeping boy. She was a short and stout woman nearing her fifties and had a great love for young children due to the fact she could never have her own, "We could try and give him some vitamins and growth pills... but at his current age I doubt they'd do much. He's underweight as well, dangerously so... Strong fever, due to an infection—oh dear..."

The nurse stepped back in shock at the scars the riddled Harry's thin body. Some of them were from a while back, and others... the more recent ones, due to improper treatments had not yet closed and a yellow pus had gathered up in them.

Sarah held the sleeping boy's head in her arms, making soothing sounds and rubbing his greasy hair, "Oh, you poor thing... poor thing..." and she paused in rocking back and forth and turned her head back to give Wammy a narrow-eyed look, "Although... there must be other children just like him... I still do not understand why you have picked him out of all others... we do afterall, only take in the best."

The elderly man smiled hesitantly and sighed, "His eyes... he looked so broken and lost when I first saw him sitting near the wall... but his eyes... they were intelligent... _alive_."

The nurse gently laid Harry back onto the bed, stroking his face and moving his hair away, "... he's just a child..."

Wammy only nodded and turned to leave, "I suspect he'll be in bed quite a while. Sarah can I trust you with him?"

Sarah, huffed, "Who exactly do you think I am!"

Wammy smiled fondly and with a small chuckle replied, "Sarah Hoffman."

Brushing a plushy hand through her brown hair, Sarah met Wammy's smile with a smirk and nodded, "Exactly. Now out, the child needs rest."

After shooing the man out, Sarah spent time away from the other sick children dressing and redressing Harry's wounds with the utmost care.

Time passed and Sarah was starting to push the boy a little. Harry reluctantly began taking the vitamins that she handed to him with a frown as she listed off just what the pills could do to help. Although growing out of his current 5'7" sounded tempting... Harry just disliked medicines in general.

And it was after a week that Sarah allowed Harry time outside of his stuffy room and was immediately plowed over by one of the little girls of the orphanage.

"Oh! I'm dreadfully sorry!" the girl gasped, scrambling to get off the bigger youth and dusted herself off hastily, "Are you injured?"

Harry shook his head, absolutely bewildered and stared up at the blushing girl from his spot on the ground. The blond child smiled thinly and attempted to help Harry back up to his feet, only to have him tripping over her, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she cried helplessly, flailing her arms and watching in horror.

Picking himself up from the ground, the first thing Harry did was to walk away from the upset girl and smiled kindly, "It's alright, no one's hurt."

"Oh, but you could have been dreadfully hurt! Though... I've never seen you around here before... I'm Victoria. Miss Katherine said it was the name of a queen. Do you know of her?"

Harry blinked, absently noting the swift subject change, "... I think I've heard of her in school."

Victoria seemed pleased at this and clasped her hands together, smiling brightly, "Oh that's good," she nodded, "Public school? I've never attended _public_ nor private school before. I was taught here."

"Where... exactly is here?"

Brown eyes widening and jaw dropping, Victoria stared at the taller figure gobsmacked, "... where... exactly is _here?_ You don't... _know_ where you are?"

Harry laughed sheepishly, scratching his nose. Victoria exploded, "What do _mean_ you don't know where you are! You're at _The Wammy's House_. Surely, someone told you about that."

"Um... no."

Victoria chewed her lip, "Well... like I said, you're at The Wammy's House. An orphanage for the gifted," she smiled brightly and reached over to take Harry's hand in her's, "Nice to meet you."

The girl's polite and down-to-earth greeting was refreshing for Harry, who lived through a war; constantly bombarded by hexes, curses and malicious sneers... "Nice to meet you too," he refused to think on it.

Having a tight grip on the older boy's hand, Victoria took the chance to pull him along beside her with a teeth-revealing grin, "You'll absolutely _love_ it here! All the teachers are kind and smart, especially Miss Katherine, she's so beautiful."

Victoria was ecstatic in showing the newcomer the building. Harry couldn't blame her, the place was breath-taking.

His general impression of orphanages had been run-down little buildings with dirty children everyone and smelled of dirty diapers. But The Wammy's House was different...

White walls with large windows, the sunlight spilled into the halls, hitting the pillars and many doors. Children in clean and proper clothes running around, giggling and yelling. Harry smiled softly, absently listening to Victoria's explanation and chatter about her beloved Miss Katherine.

"And—and—and she's taught me about Napoleon and—oh! Mello!"

Harry blinked and looked down at the little girl. _'Napoleon and oh-mello?'_ But he looked up to see a small child with blond hair at the end to the hall. He looked up with a small frown on his face which twisted into annoyance at the sight of Victoria.

Ignoring the obvious dislike radiating off Mello's thin form, Victoria, with Harry still in hand, ran up to the blond with a bright smile and waved enthusiastically, "Mello! Mello! Look, look, look! A newcomer!"

This seemed to pique the boy's interest a bit as he eyed Harry suspiciously, "Who are you?"

Harry blanched. He refused to answer as Harry Potter, he couldn't continue his wizard life in a muggle world. He didn't want to bring danger to such small, innocent children.

So he tore through his thoughts for a decent name that he would be able to live off of forever and not feel shamed of his unimaginative mind.

Allen, Alec, Andrew, Benjamin, Charles, Christopher, Daniel, Derek, Edward, Eric, Jack, Jeff, Johnathon, Mark, Martin, Nicholas, Patrick, Philip, Richard, Robert, Simon, Stuart, Timothy, William... he made a face at them all.

He's always has some sort of fascination with names out of the norm...

Harry licked his lips, "L," he said simply. Mello blinked at that before scrunching his nose up in distaste, "L?"

"L... for light." L for love, L for legend, L for life, L for Lily.

Victoria's eyes lit up in understanding and she nodded, "Not your real name," she smiled. Harry gave her a startled look and she nodded, "I know, because Victoria isn't my real name either. Mello isn't his real name too. Some of the other people here go by pseudonyms as well. It's protection for the children who don't want to be found."

Harry smiled, "... it's a good thing then... I'll be L here."

"Are you staying here?" Mello asked seriously. He no longer had the expression of utter disgust on his face, though his eyes were still sharp and suspicious. Harry shrugged, looking around his surroundings absently, "Perhaps... Will you accompany us on this tour?"

He didn't think on it when Mello stuck his nose in the air and walked ahead of them, but still close enough.

He returned to his room that night and was berated by Sarah Hoffman for returning late. He told the woman of his new name and she seemed pleased with it.

"L for light," she repeated with a small smile, "It's very simple, Original as well. Not a lot of people have a letter for a name. Most children base their names off of something they like. Victoria got her's off of Queen Victoria; a small boy named David got his off of the biblical hero."

"What of Mello?"

Sarah went quiet for a bit, looking for his head at the wall behind him. She sighed and shook her head, "Mello... he's slightly different. When I first saw him... I... he was abused as a child. And... through the torture his father must've made him go through... he was... affected in the head."

Harry nodded in understanding, looking down at his hands that were gathered in his lap. The Dursleys never raised a hand against him... but the neglect he suffered as a child was scarring enough. It was fact that children couldn't live without love and attention, many infants died in more unfortunate orphanages because the caretakers had no time to spend the few hours that a baby needed. It was a miracle Harry survived in his little cupboard.

"Mello," Sarah continued sadly, thinking back to the blond boy, "refers to the American Timothy Mello, the mobster."

Harry blinked, "Quite the morbid little child," he commented blandly. Sarah quirked a smile that disappeared instantly, "... You're nearly all healed up. ... will you be staying here?"

The question didn't surprise Harry, but he still had no idea what to do from here on out. He mulled it over in his head... had he anywhere else to go. Would his presence here call to the Death Eaters... would he endanger countless lives of innocent muggles? Orphans?

No... he was L, dammit. Not Harry Potter, the bloody saviour of the wizarding world, the boy-who-lived-to-be-defeated-by-Voldemort...

"Yes, I will stay," even if he was found... he would give his life to protect his new home.

That was five months ago.

Harry lazily twiddled his toes as the expected Victoria burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind her, "Matthew!" she screeched. The said-boy cowered and ran a hand through his auburn hair, "V-Victoria! I swear I didn't mean to! I mean... I was upstairs, and you just happened to be there while I was chewing it—it fell out my mouth on accident! I didn't even _know_ you were brushing your hair—you have _very_ pretty hair, did I tell you that?"

Harry bit his thumb to stop his smile. While Victoria did respect him greatly and looked up to him, he didn't want to test his luck on the irate girl.

"Oh? Very pretty hair? You were just chewing it?" she laughed, throaty and sarcastic. She snapped and with a cry she leapt at the boy, "I'll bloody kill you! How dare you put your dirty gum in my hair! I'll rip your tongue out of your mouth!"

Matt let out a squeak and proceeded to escape, Victoria gave chase. Harry watched with barely hidden mirth and leaned his head over to his shoulder.

The Wammy's House. Orphanage to the gifted children, founder Quillsh Wammy. He loved it here.

Within the span of five months, Harry, who at first was retaking his muggle studies along with 11-year old Victoria quickly shot up in level. He was currently learning physics and calculus, finished with all other classes.

Too say he was surprised at the speed he was learning was an understatement. In the wizarding world he was considered average, only in Defense Against the Dark Arts did he excel.

But he faintly recalled to the days before he received his Hogwarts invitations... he was easily bored in school, passing everything with a perfect mark...

He only stopped thinking about the issue after he finished up his studies in geometry, merely shrugging if an instructor came to him with questions on how he was so accomplished.

They labeled him a genius.

Harry made a face of disgust when they called him such, he was used to attention from the teacher... but it unnerved him when Mello would look up at him with an adoring light in his eyes.

Matt shrieked in the background and an audible thump was heard. Harry turned around to see him held up by the scruff of his neck by the blond girl, "You gonna kiss my toes now? Give me sincere apologies? I want to see you _beg _ for my forgiveness," Victoria hissed.

For a girl who's sole dream was to become a history professor... Victoria had strange quirks.

"Victoria, Matt, I'll be going to the courts. If someone comes looking for me, please tell them that."

"Okay L!" Victoria chirped cheerfully, seeming to forget she held another child up against the wall, "Have fun!"

Harry nodded and stepped gingerly out of the room. A month after he was first brought to the orphanage, Harry picked up the sport of tennis as a way of passing time, heighten stamina, and raise physical strength. Last month, he quickly played through and won the England Junior Cup.

A month after that Harry found a quaint little coffee shop, he would visit the shop once or twice a week to spoil himself with cakes and treats in general. He always loved sweets, not allowed such when in the company of the Dursleys, he couldn't help being addicted to it once he had his first taste of decent ice cream on Dudley's eleventh birthday.

A month after that, Harry found himself plagued with dreams of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, seeing countless, faceless victims dying at the wizard's hand. He stopped sleeping regularly in fright that he might be found, dark circles found themselves under his eyes. He slowly grew out of the habit of grooming himself. His hair stuck up more awkwardly than usual, falling over his eyebrows and scar. Harry also took to placing in dark-colored contacts. Mello had confessed the green freaked many children out. However, other than trying to quell the nerves of the children, it also served as a proper disguise and he no longer had a need for glasses this way.

A month after, Harry found himself in the middle of a crime scene. He and many others were labeled as a suspect, having no reasonable alibi and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He quietly watched as the police worked with the evidence, his wide, sleep-depraved eyes darting around from the dead body to the suspicious car with another cadaver inside. Without prompting he voiced his own opinions.

"The car is a distraction."

The police swerved around to stare at him. The chief wore a smile of triumph, "So you're confessing to your deeds are you?"

Harry shook his head, "No sir, simply giving my opinions."

"No one asked for them, boy."

"Certainly," Harry acknowledged, but continued on, ignoring the angry look sent his way, "But if you notice the timing of when the woman was killed and when the car crashed into the shop, it's a scary coincidence that they happened at almost the exact second."

"You think we don't know that?" the chief snarled angrily. He turned to the other police gathered around, "Has the ambulance come yet?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, slightly miffed at being so blatantly ignored, "Sir, if I may."

The chief swerved around to face him, mustache twitching, "No you may no—"

"The car crash was planned by the same person. Though I do doubt they wanted it to hit the shop, seeing as it would ruin the general idea of luring the police away from the crime scene here momentarily... most probably to escape. Also, seeing how the victim's phone was out on the table, she was most probably waiting for someone. You sir, with the phone, if you'll please check the recent calls."

The police blinked at being referred to and shrugged. Gingerly he dug the cellphone out of the plastic bag and checked the first name in received, "Her most recent received call is from a someone named Abigail Childs. Her most recent dialed call is to Rowland Diar."

"And these calls were when?"

"... Abigail Childs called not even twenty minutes ago. It can be guessed that the victim was still alive at this point. Yet the call to Rowland Diar was an hour ago."

"The victim's name?" Harry pressed. The man looked up at Harry, "Heather Childs."

"... shall we call Abigail Childs? We can easily judge they are of some relation of blood. Perhaps her help is needed?"

The inspector looked at his chief for a sign of approval. The chief's mustache bristled, but he nodded grudgingly in the end and the man quickly pulled out his own phone and called the number.

He waited for a few moments with the ringing... then a distinct hum was sounded from the group of gathered suspects.

Everyone stared at Harry who turned around with a finger between his teeth, and then searched through the small number of guests. His eyes fell upon a black-clad woman with long brown hair braided back. Her circular sun-glasses easily covered her face. She twitched when Harry met her eyes, "... I am Abigail Childs," she confessed, flipping her phone from her purse and clicking it off.

Harry smiled, it looked sweet and sincere to anyone else, but to Abigail it was taunting, "Well, Ms. Childs, what a surprise. To see these interrelated figures of this mystery in the same coffee shop at the same minute. Another coincidence that should be looked into. ... tell me Ms. Childs... what is that perfume you're wearing?"

Childs stiffened, eyes wide, "What are you talking about?"

Harry turned away and looked to the dead body slumped over the yellow table of the cafe, "If we look, Miss Heather Childs has a ring on her left finger. On her ring finger. However if we are to look at her document," he had peeked over a police's shoulder when everyone was preoccupied earlier, "we can see she is unmarried. Thus single, and engaged. Is this correct information Ms. Abigail Childs?"

"... she was engaged to that Rowland Diar fellow you just called out."

"Was she waiting for him?"

"I don't know! She just left the house and I coincidently met her here! Why the hell are you asking me! That's my sister, _dead_ on the floor and I'm obviously distraught!"

Harry bowed his head, "My apologies," and turned his attention back to the police, "Shall we call Mr. Diar?"

The chief for the first time didn't look at Harry as if he was a bug, "... that's the problem. It's his body in the car." Harry nodded in understanding. He wasn't surprised... the story was beginning to unravel in his head, and he was not surprised Rowland Diar was dead, "Another scary coincidence," he tilted his head back, eyeing Abigail, "... what did you say to her on the phone?"

"... simply asked what she was doing."

"When you two were in the same restaurant?"

Abigail narrowed her eyes and breathed heavily, "I didn't want to bother her."

Harry nodded as if understanding, but he continued to contradict her statements, "However, with your phone call, in the end you were bothering her," his lips twitched, "Was there a reason you called instead of going up to her?"

Abigail did not answer, so Harry kept talking, "Where exactly did you sit?"

He could see how Abigail hesitated, standing stiffly without moving at all. So another elderly man came up from behind her and pointed to a seat, "I remember the lass sitting here."

It was a yellow table like the rest of them, a cool coffee sat on top of it, and if Harry recalled correctly, that table was a number of other tables away from where the victim sat. His eyes narrowed, _A trick..._

"Is there any evidence of her being anywhere else but her seat at anytime? The front counter or the restroom?" Harry asked the gather group of investigators. A few of them exchanged glances, frowning at the strange boy that just took charge of the crime scene like a pro, "There is fresh fingerprints in the restroom. But it doesn't seem like she used the toilet only washed her hands."

"And how did autopsy go?"

"There was nothing specifically wrong when we did a quick check. There might be small things, but we won't know until we take her body to the hospital..."

Harry nodded, "What did you order Ms. Childs?"

"A coffee. That's it."

"Do you normally add sugar or cream to your coffee?"

"... no," the woman twitched and bit her trembling lip, most possibly to keep herself from screaming at Harry. The dark-haired man blinked and tilted his head, "... is there a problem?"

Abigail released her lip, but her teeth began to chatter, "You... you're doing it again..."

"... yes?"

"You're suspecting me again!" she shrieked, "Suspecting me of killing my own family and blood! My sister—she's my only sister! I wouldn't kill her—! I wouldn't—!"

Harry turned away, feeling a bitter irritation rise in him and he squashed it down ruthlessly, "You'd be surprised what people might do to their own family... children, siblings, and parents alike," he calmly responded, then promptly bit down on his thumb. He slowly made way towards the body and bent down next to the dead woman.

She was moderately pretty with her lifeless blue eyes wide and dry. Harry looked her over impassively then bent down to her lips...

He ignored the outraged shouts of the people behind him and sniffed at her lips.

Almond... and... a faint smell of—

He was yanked up by the arm and looked to see the irate and balloon-like face of the chief, "What the bloody hell are you doing!" he sprayed.

Harry determinedly wiped the saliva off his face and looked back down at the body, "Hydrogen cyanide cannot be smelled by at least forty-percent of the population. It's a genetic quality that is much too complex to be explained in simple terms. But to those who can catch its scent, it's a faint, yet bitter almond-esque odor. Perhaps it will impact you best if I commented that hydrogen cyanide gas was used during the Holocaust... and its salt was found in the apple that killed Alan Turing," he gave the chief a side-ways look and blinked at his pale face, "Perhaps... we should bring the body to the hospital now."

"B-but..." the man sputtered, "with the accident, there's traffic. The police are doing everything they can to calm the civilians, but with how everything is, the ambulance is having trouble getting here."

Harry refrained from commenting and simply freed his arm from the chief's grasp. He returned to the cadaver and silently looked over the woman's body, looking for anything out of place, "Did the knife hit any vitals?"

"She was stabbed in the thoracic vertebrae. The knife didn't penetrate very far due to the bone, and it didn't pierce any organs at all."

"... so it could not be the reason of her death... have you checked her cup for anything?"

Before the inspectors could answer, one of the waitresses stepped up with her wide eyes and bloodless face, "Wait a minute! Does that mean you suspect us for—"

"Do you have anything against this woman?" Harry asked, simply tilting his head around to look her in the eye. The woman broke into cold sweat and frantically shook her head, "N-no... I don't even know her..."

"Then you don't need to worry," he turned back to the inspectors, "Have you checked her cup?"

"Y-yes... she drank it without cream or sugar, and there wasn't a hint of poison anywhere."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "... and her spoon?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did she at all use her spoon?"

Eyes swerved back to the victim's table and they indeed saw a silver, teaspoon resting on the side of the saucer. The police went over to investigate it, and Harry gently brushed Heather Childs dark hair back and frowned, "... she's quite red..." he murmured to himself.

"Sir! There are traces of saliva and toxin on the spoon."

Harry picked himself off the ground and turned around to the face the police, "Please take all the sugar within this shop and look over them all. They will have to be replaced."

Suddenly, it all clicked to the spectators as well as they paled and placed a hand over their own neck. Harry looked at them blankly, "I wouldn't worry. Potassium cyanide, which is what we most probably have in our hands, works quickly. Had any of you had a taste of it, you would've immediately keeled over and lost consciousness. Which is what happened to Miss Childs. Of course, she didn't die immediately," he paused for a moment, letting the gears work in everyone's heads and looked Abigail in the eye, "the knife is what killed her."

The chief looked ready to argue, "But the knife missed all vitals! There is no way that the knife—"

"Of course, she was still awake and alive when she was stabbed," Harry cut him off sharply, "Neurogenic shock... it's caused by trauma to the spinal cords and leads to vasodilation and hypotension. ... then the victim was fed the cyanide. With the shock... the initial symptoms of the poison quickened and killed her off quickly in where it would've taken at least an hour under normal circumstances."

"... when—no, _where_ could this have all occured! It's ridicul—"

"In the restroom... that is where you found her body, correct?," Harry walked over to a chair and crawled up in it, bringing his legs to his chest and thoughtfully nibbling on his thumb, "Yes... with the knife and potassium as well as the car... this isn't a trick. It's all a very well-timed crime. ... and the limonene."

Harry pointed a finger at the police holding up the bag with the knife, "Sir, could you possibly smell through the bag and blood?"

Tentatively, the man brought the bag up to his face and sniffed it, "... ... a... a faint scent of... lemons..." he stammered hesitantly. Harry nodded then cast his dark eye over the group of people, "Ms. Childs..."

Abigail stiffened and looked at him with wide eyes and pale face. Harry licked the blood off his thumb as he bit to the skin, "It's faint... but limonene is so distinct it can't be missed. All over your clothes... hair... hands..."

"Y-you..."

"Did you have something against their marriage? A vendetta perhaps? Or was it jealousy? Did you want Mr. Diar for yourself but Miss Heather Childs took him from you? Was it some melodramatic case such as that? To kill your own blood?"

Abigail looked deathly white and began to frantically shake her head, "You have no evidence! _You have no evidence! _Why the bloody hell are you asking me!"

"True... I have no evidence," he turned to the police, "but they do."

The investigators looked startled when Harry directed to them, "... would you sirs... be kind enough to check for fingerprints on Miss Childs herself?

"What is that supposed to determine! You're daft! Batty as hell!"

Harry clucked, "Ms. Childs... I've studied human behaviour in detail... and there's always one thing we humans have within us that can't be thrown away," he pushed away his urge to smirk, "We tend to use only our dominate hand."

With quick and long strides, Harry gently lifted Abigail's hands to eye-level, revealing the burned palm and pads. Hastily, Abigail wrenched her hand from Harry's with an enraged shriek, "What are you—"

"Limonene tends to irritate skin like that... so we might not be able to find the prints on knife. However... what of your other hand? While your right was holding the knife... your left...?"

The inspectors called out at this point, "Sir! Sir! There are fingerprints—"

Harry turned and smiled at the white evidence that showed up on Heather Childs' fair face... in the mark of a clutch. The thumb on the left cheekbone while the other fingers were trailing down her right face to her jawline. Harry, already over by the cadaver's side, reached over and impersonated the grasp, hovering each finger over the mark... his hand covered the dead Childs' mouth ominously, "Now..." Harry muttered, "... shall we check fingers?"

Abigail Childs gave a shriek and ran forward to grab Harry, face pulled and eyes burning with tears and fury, "You bastard!" she screamed, grabbing Harry and pulling them both to the ground. Harry gave a grunt when his head collided with the floor, "You think it's bloody funny? Huh? Do you think what I did was unjustified? Love that bastard Rowland Diars? Are you bloody kidding me!"

The police threw her off of the other, an investigator helping Harry into a sitting position. The dark-haired youth gently brushed off the other man's hand and looked Abigail in the eye, "The murder was deserved then?"

A crazed glaze took over. Abigail long lost her glasses as they clattered to the ground in her attempt to kill Harry. Her glassy blue eyes stared directly into his black ones, "Oh yes," she laughed, "that fucking bastard took her from me. Heather was _mine_. She was mine before he came with his good looks and charms, promising love and protection—_I could have given her all the love and protection she fucking wanted!_ Heather needed only me. Fucking Rowland Diar interfered... he needed to die. So I killed him. Though I was rather shocked that he ran into this very shop, I only wanted the breaks to fail nearby. It was more than what I could ask for."

"... and the reason you killed her?" the chief asked softly.

Abigail gave him a disinterested glance before turning back to Harry, "... because I knew she wouldn't be all there anymore..."

'_Madder than Bellatrix Lestrange_.' Harry shook his head, "... what did you say to her on the phone before you killed her?"

"... That..." the tears that were welled up in her eyes began to fall down her red cheeks, "... that I loved her," she choked, head falling forward, "... Heather... she was _my _baby sister... we were going to stay together forever, she promised me..."

"... She was never going to leave you. If your bond with your sister is as strong as you make it seem... then she never would've left you. She never would've stopped loving you."

Abigail glared up at him and spat, "Don't think I bloody know that you ponce? I just wanted her to myself," she was lifted to her feet forcefully and taken away by the police. Harry stared at the retreating figure with steady eyes. He startled when the investigator from before pat his back and helped him up, "You alright?"

"Yes, thank you. ... if you could please not mention me in any reports?"

The investigator quirked a grin and shook his head, "Sorry, but it's vital. But I can keep you from coming to the station with us. I need your name please."

Harry hesitated for a bit, before sighing, "Erald Coil. E-R-A-L-D C-O-I-L. I live in the streets." he lied smoothly.

The man nodded, but not without giving Harry's battered form a look over and gave him a small look of pity at what he thought was a homeless man. Quickly jotting the name down, he thanked Harry before rushing over to the arriving ambulance and placed the dead bodies onto stretchers.

Harry quickly disappeared.

A month later, Harry became a unofficial detective through Roger, the caretaker of the orphanage who was known to be a detective through the police force. Harry sneaked into cases and was soon known throughout the Europe Police Force.

He became L Lawliet, quickly climbing up the ladder into becoming the world's greatest detective, closely followed by Erald Coil and Danuve.

"L?" Mello's boyish voice traveled down the halls, "Are you going to the courts?" he asked. Harry nodded, gripping his racket, "I was going to the public courts, actually. Would you like to come Mello?"

The blond pouted and kicked at the ground, "I can't. I have biology in ten minutes."

"... you are unhappy," Harry commented blandly.

Mello shook his head, neatly cut hair flying over is face and shoulders, "No, but Nia was being annoying."

Harry absently thought back to the pale-haired small child with emotionless black eyes. He remembered seeing his small figure drenched in white cloths and sitting alone in a large room with only a puzzle or a Rubix Cube in hand. He was quiet and shy, eyes nervously darting up to Harry then down at the floor with a small blush, "... Nia was irritating you?"

"Yeah, he was just sitting on the ground with his stupid puzzles! Acting like he's better than everyone..."

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I see..."

Nia... a principle of the Pan-African holiday of Kwanzaa. Nia was _purpose_. That was what the small child had told him when he asked him of his name. Nia was small and had an affinity for toys. The other children didn't often interact with him, so Harry saw him alone on the floor in front of a puzzle or playing with his toy soldiers. He was endearing... and intelligent. Amazingly so.

Harry pat Mello's hair, drawing an embarrassed glance from the blond, "Perhaps you should go see how Matt's doing before getting to biology. Victoria seemed to be in a mood. They're in my sitting room."

Mello nodded and turned to the directed room with a small smile back at Harry, "Bye L!"

Harry nodded his head and continued his trek to the nearby public courts.

Hampshire, Winchester, England was a interesting place. Old buildings, bustling with people... Harry smiled faintly, he absolutely loved it here.

He was walking down a familiar street, wiggling his toes in his ragged sneakers and sporting a racket over his shoulder. Harry ignored the strange looks he was receiving due to his crouched form and disheveled hair.

But a groan caught his attention. Harry turned his eyes to a small alley, dank and emitting a foul odor. Harry paused, staring into the darkness and blinked when a shadow moved and terrible coughs were heard. To satisfy his own curiousity, though a thoughtful inner voice told him to just leave it, Harry walked into the alley, closer to the figure.

In the darkness with only a small amount of sunlight spilling through cracks and crevices, the bent body of a man was shown. Unwashed black hair spilled down in front of a pallid, equally unwashed and greasy face. Blood was running from the man's thin pale-lips and Harry caught the red in his hands as well. He was coughing blood.

But he looked over all of those facts, eyeing a familiar nose... large, hook nose.

"Oh my God," Harry muttered.

Severus Snape glared up with exhausted, black eyes filled with hate into one Harry Potter, "Can I help you?"

-be continued-

I don't spend my day making murder plans.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

An immediate wave of anger washed over Harry. For the first time in five months, Harry was shaken and absolutely livid.

Snape was boredly staring up at him, but his gaze was broken when he looked away and coughed into his hand.

The broken hacks seem to continue on. Harry stared impassively, only moving when Snape's coughs died down and the man fainted against the wall.

Harry had half the mind to simply leave him there to rot—to die like Dumbledore had—

Stop. Harry gasped and put a hand to his temple. He should not be thinking like this... not when he was L. Harry tossed away his racket momentarily and bent down to pick up Snape, ignoring the disgusting stench that came off the man's skinny body. He hitched him over his shoulder and grabbed his phone from his back pocket. He quickly dialed in Wammy's number. "It's L. I need a car. I'm in an alleyway between the nearby pawn shop and an abandoned building," he informed simply in a "no-nonsense" manner.

Wammy knew how to reply back without annoying the man or wasting his breath, "...Very well. I shall send one immediately."

The wait was tense and Harry kept glancing up at the seemingly fainted man over his shoulder. He kept a firm grip on his racket just in case.

The car, black and expensive, came as directed. Harry quickly settled Snape's body, carelessly tossing him onto the leather and he ignored the strange looks the driver gave Snape. "Go."

The driver nodded curtly and drove back to Wammy's House. The drive was short as Harry had not walked a long way, but he did not wish to be seen with a unconscious man dangling lifelessly from his shoulder, no matter who it was.

"Um... Mr. L... would you like assistance?" the driver asked cautiously, staring at the body as if it was a disease. Harry coughed into his hand, Snape did look like something awful... "No, no thank you it will not be necessary."

The driver looked relieved. "Very well. Have a good day Mr. L."

Harry heaved Snape back over his shoulders, groaning under the weight of the significantly taller man... although he could feel the ridges of Snape's ribs against his shoulder...

He walked into the secret passageway installed three weeks after he had settled into his room. He planted it in case there was a need to escape due to a sudden attack... Harry bit his lip and shook the thoughts from his mind.

He walked swiftly and quietly down the halls to where his room would be on the third floor. He was rather attached to the attic, but Wammy was firm on his decision of Harry sleeping in a bed like a normal person... although the bed was beginning to gather dust... Harry felt much more comfortable curled up in his red-cushioned couch.

He pushed through the large portrait on his wall that faintly resembled the fat-lady back at Hogwarts. He had found it in a silent auction a few weeks back and immediately latched himself onto it.

Harry rushed over to his bed and unceremoniously dumped Snape onto the covers and dished out his phone from his pocket. Dialing a series of numbers he waited until the tone stopped and a click was heard, "Ah, Sarah? It's L. There's a problem. An emergency if you will," and he promptly hung up, knowing the woman would be up to his rooms in a few minutes and then take another few minutes on berating him on bad manners before going to her assigned task.

As expected Sarah curtly knocked on the door and burst through without prompt. "L Lawliet! How many times have I told you not to hang up on people without giving them a chance to give a response! Really, it's very rude to just hang up on someone!"

Harry smiled sweetly and shrugged, "I apologize. It's one of my many bad habits. But please, Sarah, there's someone who needs some help," He padded across the room and directed the stout woman to Snape. Sarah drew in a deep breath as she circled him like a hawk. "Thin... too thin... pale and he looks to have blood from his mouth." Gingerly she pried his mouth open. "Flashlight, L—thank you. ... thankfully it isn't internal bleeding. It seems he has lost a tooth and the wound wasn't able to close..."

"Which tooth?"

Sarah drew gloves out from her apron, snapping them on before digging her finger around his mouth carefully. "His mandibular second premolar..."

Harry nodded slowly, keeping the flashlight aimed at Snape's mouth, but his dark eyes wandering around the man's aged face. "... replaceable?"

"Only if he wants."

Harry understood. He watched silently as Sarah worked, often having to press the intercom that was installed into Harry's room to call in a few of the other nurses along with salves and medicine.

"A fever, he seems to be in horrible pain. There's evidence of frostbite, but thankfully it has not reached a severe case. His blood vessels are simply damaged... shit."

Sarah Hoffman was beginning to curse. Curse and sweat. She was not happy, "Malnutrition." She poked into his mouth again uncertainly. She paused for a long moment before moving her hands to his pants and undoing them.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, blinking rapidly and slightly shocked at how the nurse was tugging down Snape's pants. Sarah scoffed and gave him a narrow-eyed look, "I know what I'm doing, and I have nothing immoral in my mind!" She sniffed and tossed Snape's pants to the floor, lifting up his greying trunks and tutting, "As I thought. Scurvy. He should be very uncomfortable, and bleeding somewhere unpleasant." She nudged at the intercom with her elbow. "Lucy? If you'll bring up some oranges and lemons? Anything with vitamin C, but easy to digest."

"Sending it up pronto," the Head Cook, Lucy Writer sang before disconnecting. Sarah returned to Snape, draping a blanket over his unconscious form and dabbing lightly on his sweaty forehead. "... he'll live," she said grimly. "You seem to pick up strays everywhere you go."

"Untrue," Harry argued, moodily sticking his hands into his pocket and crouching even further. "I merely happen to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

"Yes, yes like you always do. Stop crouching L! You'll give yourself some undiscovered form of scoliosis."

Harry thoughtfully tapped his lip with a finger, bitten all the way down to the skin underneathe. "Perhaps... but my deductive reasoning will lower drastically if I was not in such a position. Now, Miss Sarah. Perhaps you should go ahead and rest, it's been a long day. You may trust me with the patient."

Sarah eyed him suspiciously, reluctantly letting the dark-haired youth shove her towards the door. "It's not that I don't trust you L... but... are you certain?"

She was easily persuaded with Harry's Gryffindor Smile. "Everything will be fine." He gently pushed her out the door and waved, "Please rest up. Good day, then."

"... good day, L."

Harry watched as Sarah turned towards the stairs, full intention of getting back to the infirmary in case she was needed by another child. Harry turned, shutting the door behind him and locking it. "You can open your eyes now," he breathed.

As if by a spell, Snape's eyes fluttered open and he tossed an indifferent look to the unruly-looking boy near the door. "Who are you?"

"... I am L," Harry answered, pleased that Snape hadn't recognized him.

Seeming to be unsatisfied with the answer, Snape pressed on, "What do you want with me?" He paused, expression thoughtful before his face turned white and he quickly sat up, grunting in pain. "Who are you working for?!" he demanded.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he kept quiet.

"Well?" Snape barked, the image of who he used to be. Potions Master Professor Snape, the sheer terror of almost half the school. Harry wanted to smirked but pushed the desire down. "I advise you not to scream so loudly, sir. It will disturb the children around." He let Snape digest that as the man seemed to have a hard time focusing. "Please rest here."

Harry unlocked the door and opened it just enough for him to slip through. Harry peeked through the small crevice that became smaller and smaller as Harry pulled the knob back. "Oh... and please don't bother on escaping." He gave the dark-haired man a malicious grin, closing the door with a quiet 'click.'

The day... was becoming tiresome. Harry sighed and locked the door from outside. Snape had no other way of escaping. At his current state, apparation was a dangerous risk, he had no wand (Harry made sure before the car arrived, back in the alley), and he could barely walk, much less stand.

Humming a short tone, Harry twirled the key around his finger and made his way to his sitting room. He would sleep in the chair tonight, like he did every night.

* * *

Harry did not enjoy waking up in the morning. He always had an awful cramp in his back that would go away once he started walking, but it did not help the fact Harry hated waking up. He suspected it wouldn't happen if he laid on a mattress at night, but the idea of being prone and on his back unnerved him.

So with his bad sleeping habits came bad posture. Of course, Harry felt better at a level-eyed point of view, and he didn't like the idea of creatures coming up and chomping at his heels when he sat with feet dangling over the edge. He liked being a ball, it lessened his nerves.

With a loud crack from his spine, Harry let out a small sigh and walked down the hall to his room where Snape would most probably pouting on the bed if not still asleep—

—that's what he figured. Harry frowned and ran forward to pick up a fallen Sarah who was laying on the floor of his room, unconscious. "Sarah... Sarah," he called, shaking her gently as to not bother any wounds that might have been left on her aged body. With a quick glance up at the empty bed and around the equally empty room, Harry cursed.

The time was currently seven-fifteen in the morning, the porridge discarded from the bowl to the floor was still hot, Sarah didn't get up from bed until seven, the young cook Thomas was up earliest at six in order to prepare for breakfast, and Snape wasn't in any state to be up and running...

He couldn't have gotten very far.

Slowly setting Sarah back onto the floor and quickly calling in an assistant nurse to pick her up. Harry hurried out of the room and looked up and down the hall for a sign of Snape.

... a smudged handprint on the wall made out by what looked like grease and dirt.

When Harry found him, a good distance from his room, the man was collapsed in the middle of the hall; Harry quickly looked around and saw no other children in the vicinity and promptly lifted Snape and carried him back with his feet dragging against the floor.

"I told you not to bother," Harry chided softly. He sighed in relief when Snape snapped back at him energetically, "What do you want with me? Are you with Dumbledore? You're obviously not with the Dark Lord, seeing that muggle woman back there."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't—"

Harry frowned and knocked Snape's jaw with quick jab with his shoulder. His lips twitched when he heard a sharp click of teeth next to his ear. "What might your name be?" he asked calmly, ignoring Snape's string of swears.

"What's it to you?" the once-upon-a-time Potions Master snipped irritably.

"I saved your life," though he wished he hadn't... the thoughts and memories of Dumbledore was too drowning.

At this explanation, Snape gave a low and sarcastic chuckle, "Couldn't just let me die, huh?"

Harry thought, letting the silence roll on for the moment before he answered, "No."

"... ... Severus."

'Severus?' Harry blinked, pausing in his step and turning his head slightly to face the man over his shoulder. He didn't know a 'Severus'... "Pardon?"

Snape bared his yellow teeth, a noticeable hole in the bottom row. "Severus Snape!" he growled. Harry breathed, "Severus... Strange name."

Once they reached Harry's room, he noticed that Sarah was already taken away and so he unceremoniously dumped Snape onto his bed, ignoring the man's pained grunt. He walked around to the wall next to the bed and pressed the kitchen intercom, "If someone could please send up some orange juice and rice porridge to L's room," and daintily removed his finger from the button. They knew not to reply back.

Harry stuck his hands into his jean pockets and turned to stare at Snape openly with his dark eyes. He saw Snape twitch uncomfortably at being blatantly observed, "What?"

Harry's lips curved into a innocent smile and he leaned forward, ignoring the putrid odor. "I shall call you Shen."

"... what?"

Backing up into his couch, Harry curled up in a comfortable corner of the plush, red cushion and leaned his head against his knees and hands, "This is an orphanage, The Wammy's House. For special children. The institution is well paid by the government in exchange the staff of The Wammy's House will teach the children to be perfect politicians, rulers of justice. But there are some that sway... a more quiet career... teaching, cooking... and most of the children here are in hiding... they go by pseudonyms in order to hide themselves more efficiently. Aren't you in hiding?"

Snape decided to remain silent, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed in what resembled confusion and conflict.

"I see. Then you will remain as Shen, unless you have another name you prefer?"

Harry didn't think Snape would prefer any sort of name other than his own, and as he presumed the man shook his head and Harry nodded his. "Very well. Now, again I advise you to stay and rest up. Please eat the breakfast a nurse will bring up soon. I will keep the door unlocked; I hope I can trust you not to give me a hard time now?"

"... what is 'Shen' from?"

Of all the questions... shaking his head slightly, Harry walked out of his chair and towards the door, hands finding themselves snug in pockets again, "... Shen. A tooth."

Snape made a face of apparent dislike. Harry peeked a glance and smiled when he noticed Snape absently poking at the gap with his tongue.

"A man in the favor of the Lord, God, and his people has set up his Ebenezer there. At The Shen," Harry continued on, stopping in front of the open door. He could see Snape frowning from the corner of his eye and nod, "Why did you save me?"

A predictable question, Harry liked those, "... why do humans require oxygen to breath? Why do we find the need for hate? Jealousy? Why do some die of illnesses? Why do we have feelings? Can you answer those?"

A steady stare. Snape breathed calmly at the silent challenge.

Harry nodded. During the few months Harry relived the muggle world, he realized he had the time to simply sit in front of a fire with a mountain of sweets all around and think. "The answer to your question is: I just did. Besides... you happened to be in the vicinity," he replied with a straight face.

It was possibly his bland expression that had Snape snorting into his hand and tossing the blankets over his head. Harry lifted his hidden eyebrows and carelessly stuck a finger into his mouth. "There is a bathroom over there near the left wall. I advise you to take a shower. I will call another nurse up to give you a toothbrush and toothpaste. If you need me, simply press one of the buttons and ask for L. Have a good day Shen."

* * *

A month... Harry spent a month looking after Snape like some kind of mother all the while trying desperately to hide Harry Potter from his old Potions Professor.

Harry frowned at Snape's plate, seeing broccoli practically ruling the the saucer. Snape, noticing Harry's staring, frowned and looked away. "I dislike broccoli. They look like trees. I do not eat trees."

Harry's gaze flickered to the man's face for a second before coming back down to his plateful of cake. "... indeed," he hummed, raising his fork to his mouth and he licked the cream off its edges.

"As if you eat any better? Stuffed with your bloody cakes and sugar-clumped coffee—"

Harry chewed on his nails irritably. "I eat a regular three meals a day and I drink water often enough. Besides, I am not in a bad condition such as yourself."

"So you say," Snape snapped back and stabbed a broccoli with his knife. Harry raised an eyebrow at the action and resumed biting his nail.

Snape was reluctantly chewing on the green vegetables. Harry staring intently at just how childish the man was acting. Perhaps it happened with killing people... Harry himself decided it would be a good idea to destroy all of Dumbledore's trinkets after Sirius had died.

"Have you ever killed someone?" he asked nonchalantly, looking up at Snape's face as it went from shock to suspicious in a single second. "... what?"

Harry removed his finger from his mouth. He wanted to hear Snape's answer, see his reaction... the guilt... "I've seen many things in living... and I am familiar with guilt. I do partake in telling criminals from innocents... and you have a dark shadow in your eyes. It makes me wonder."

"And you have no emotion in your eyes." Snape dropped the utensils from his hands and pushed his plate away.

Harry did not push him to eat and he did not stop staring at the other man's face. "All with a purpose, I assure you. It tends to unnerve people into telling me things I want to hear."

"But you do not show people your face in cases."

Harry beat down a smile that tickled his lips. "True... but if Mello decides to dig through the kitchen for chocolate again, someone has to make him feel indiscreet."

"... stop staring at me L."

Harry looked away. "Certainly... so have you?" he questioned, referring back to his earlier inquiry. Snape sipped at the water in a clear glass, eyeing him with distaste. "We're still talking about it? Hmph, as long I've lived, I'm bound to have done something unforgivable."

"Understandable," Harry nodded, wide eyes turning to his twiddling toes. "Humans don't live past twenty years without a thought of murder, rape, suicide, thievery or some sort of criminal deed. Even children these days, as young as eight know of swears and drugs." He nodded again, "Understandable."

A silence rose between the two. Harry mindlessly gnawing at his knuckles and watching his toes with interest, ignoring Snape's own black gaze on his face "... have you ever killed someone?" the dark-haired potions master asked in a hushed tone.

Harry glanced up, tilting his head to the side. "In the past... I have aided in killings I wish never had happened. It haunts me sometimes. I am unable to sleep... or eat."

"... I sympathize."

"Because you have killed as well?"

A twitch. Snape was poking at the gap in his teeth again. "... I've never been to this part of Winchester," he changed the subject, looking down the window with a rare serene expression. Harry blinked, but followed his lead, "Lovely place isn't it? I could happily say I've lived here all my life. But it'd be a half-lie."

"... that makes no sense."

"Yes..." Harry shrugged. "I suppose. Would you like to join me? I'm about to leave and get some cake."

Snape's lips pulled down ever further and he straightened. "I dislike sweets."

"Pity. But I have a craving. If you would like to join me, please help yourself."

Harry didn't think Snape would actually follow him. He pushed himself out of the chair and onto the ground easily, and turned around to see Snape already up and behind him. "Selfish," the man muttered under his breath. Harry turned back around and left his sitting room. "I am an immature person," he admitted easily.

After reaching the back door and slipping on ragged, old tennis shoes, Harry pushed through the door and stepped out into the sun, sighing. He heard Snape's breath of content as well. The man might've spent an eternity in a dungeon... but a tiny bit of fresh air seemed to ease even the stiffest of people.

They walked together in silence. Normally, Harry would've taken the car, but after Snape had rudely appeared into his life again, Harry had no time for tennis and felt a desperate need for some form and shape of exercise.

The walk was a good twenty minutes, before the familiar, curving brown roof came into view. "Ah, here. They serve wonderful cakes."

Snape decided not to comment and stepped into the cool shop after Harry. The dark-haired youth was greeted warmly; being a regular customer most of the servers knew him by face.

Finding and sitting at his usual table, Harry observed that company while eating his cake was not a bad thing. They ordered drinks and Harry a cake, the wait was short and their orders were quickly delivered. Harry wasted no time in dumping in his precise number of sugar cubes and pouring in a good number of small milk-cups into his coffee. Snape ignored this and simply sipped at his coffee without adding anything to the dark mixture. "How long have you lived here? It seems you are familiar with the place."

Harry inclined his head, neatly holding his fork with his forefinger and thumb. "Hm? Not long at all. Six months now."

"Yes... not long," Snape murmured after him, tone holding no sarcasm.

Digging his fork into the ordered buttermilk cake with white frosting and extra strawberries, Harry breathed in the sweet scent before replying, "No. But it is home. My childhood had few homes. But The Wammy's House is by far... the best." He closed his lips around the fork and slowly savored the taste of the cake in his mouth.

Snape watched Harry eat with dispassion. "... how it must feel," he drawled. "I have never had a true home in where I felt peace."

Harry paused, fork stopping midway as he chose to focus on Snape instead. "Do you feel trapped in the Wammy's House?"

"... surprisingly... no."

During the month that Snape had stayed in The Wammy's House, he had immediately picked up a chemistry text and read through the entire thing. Children often came to Harry's room to peek at the mysterious "Shen," until he gave them a glare and they scrambled to escape.

His and Harry's relationship was rocky at best. Harry, still harboring a deep contempt for the man, found himself enjoying the snarky company more and more—Snape was lost in his mind as Shen took over.

"I suppose we're alike in some way, Shen."

The man blinked, gently setting down his cup with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Perhaps."

Harry was confused by Snape's slightly pleased face and he blinked and pressed his thumb against his lips. "You are not displeased by my suggesting such a thing?" he asked.

"Hm, should I be?"

The other man nodded in affirmative. "You should," he replied easily, words slightly muffled by his thumb. "I don't consider myself a likable man. I have no friends, I am very immature, and have strange habits; besides the fact I'm a nosy person..."

Snape boredly sipped at his coffee, crossing his legs and leaning back into the cushion of the seat. "... we do have a lot in common," he smirked at Harry's apparent bewildered expression. The younger man breathed audibly, "... hah."

* * *

"Shen?"

Harry blinked at the crouched figure of Snape, bending over a white Poinsettia and rubbing the leaf between his fingers. The man glanced up at Harry for a second before returning to the plant. "Flora was looking for some toxic shrubbery."

"... I see." Harry paused, chewing on his thumb nail in thought. "You are aware of the fact that Poinsettias have no toxin in them?"

"I am very aware of that fact, L. However, I am simply seeing what differs between the leaves of a white Poinsettia to a red one... how they would react in mixing with Aloe Vera..."

Harry blinked as Snape's words swept over his head. Potions... the man inwardly groaned; he hated potions. "Perhaps Flora would appreciate some Devil's Trumpet flowers. We have a whole row of Privets south of the garden."

"What kind of Privets?"

"The common European one," Harry replied. Snape nodded curtly, pushing himself off the ground with a grunt. "Old age..." he muttered under his breath as he walked away from Harry. Harry allowed himself to smirk.

"L!"

Harry turned at the call of his name and blinked his wide eyes at the running figure of Vie, a little French girl that was found even before Victoria; she had the technique of photographic memory.

Harry turned to face the girl who stopped in front of him and gasped for breath, "T-there are some strange people looking for you..."

"... looking for me?"

Vie nodded frantically, cheeks red and her brown hair was windswept. "Oui... they said someone with black 'air et green eyes. You are the first person that came to mind." The blood drained from Vie's face, "Was that bad idea? Do you not want to see these strangers, L? I will get Spinner to trick these people if you want—"

"No," Harry cut in, eyes hardening as he imagined who these strangers might be. "No, I will go meet them."

"But L—"

"It is not your fault, Vie," he reassured the girl lightly, patting her head. "Please don't tell anyone else about this." He glanced over his shoulder at Snape and smiled lightly when the Vie responded by frantically nodding her head. She would do anything for L; everyone respected L for the person he had become in such a short time.

Everyone aimed to become the next L.

Wammy greeted him at the door, his eyes skeptical, yet calm. "L... have you ever gone by the name of Harry Potter?"

Harry felt a sweatdrop run down the back of his neck. "Who's looking for me?" he asked slowly. Wammy nodded, pointing to the double-front doors. "Out there." Wammy opened the door for Harry and slowly the sunlight poured into the hall through the large opening and Harry closed his eyes hidden away under dark-contacts.

He barely caught the waiting figures of McGonagall, Moody, and Remus. They all looked at him expectantly and Harry allowed himself to smile at this situation... even though a tremor ran through his body.

"Hello," Harry started pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

-be continued-

Mmm, for those who don't know. This is a Death Note crossover. Death Note is a rather gothic, manga series, so if death and stuff aren't your thing then don't look into it... I promise you won't miss much. I'm hardly incorporating into the actual series, only using the Wammy's House and L...  
... and really... I promise... if you take this too seriously... your image of L's going to be so messed up.  
So, in the end folks, _don't hurt me for whatever might happen as side-effects._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
**  
Harry really didn't think inviting them in was a good idea, but then he really felt the desire to ground himself from sweets the moment he served them tea.

He crawled up into the red chair one of the staff members helpfully brought down from his room and nursed a porcelain tea cup in his hands. "Harry Potter you say?" He tested the drink and made a face at the bitterness.

McGonagall looked at the other man suspiciously before exchanging glances with the rest of her companions. "Yes. Our sources say he's here... in Winchester."

There was a sudden twitch in Harry's finger, and the young man immediately stuck it into his mouth. "And for what reason did you manage yourself to The Wammy's House?" he asked around the obstruction. The elder woman continued, eyeing the detective strangely now as he mindlessly nibbled at his thumb. "... because..." she said, her voice soft, "Harry has no where else to go... but an orphanage."

There was a logic in that Harry appreciated and could not deny, so he merely nodded. "... I see."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, mildly sipping tea. Harry's mind raced, wondering how he was going to lead them away... and make sure they _stayed_ away. There were several dangers within these walls: Snape and himself. "... I'm afraid," Harry started slowly, putting his cup down, "the name Harry Potter does not ring a particular bell—"

A low growling sound cut him off and Harry turned his head sharply to address the hostile form of Ex-Auror Moody. The man's bowler hat was nearly tipping off due to what Harry imagined would be because of his haywire eye.

"I don't fall for that brat," Moody snarled, spatting spit in his anger. "Especially not with what _you_ look like."

Then Harry's mind registered just what said-haywire eye did and a shiver ran down his back quickly. Harry placed both hands down at his side in a defensive position. "... whatever do you mean?" he asked, near praying that Moody wouldn't blow this.

But the old auror heard none of it and Harry quickly reached to the stick that had been forever hidden in his saggy pants gathering dust as Harry normally forgot about it.

Old instincts screamed at him the moment Moody flicked his wrist out, and Harry, with his youth, was a second faster. "_Expelliarmus!_" he casted, a red bolt of light rushing out from the tip of his wand.

Everything in his mind became blank at that point. All his past knowledge disappeared in a tightly locked crate, and even though Harry desperately needed to plan this situation out instead of leaning on whatever animalistic intuition he had—he could reach it; he couldn't find _L_.

This was like before... back when he fought Voldemort... and _lost_.  
_  
Shit._

He barely caught himself as he dodged another stunner and threw a rather dark spell at his pursuers, eyesight becoming fogged and his breath speeding up. '_What's going on!'_ Everything was messed up and disoriented—Harry screamed another "_Expellarimus_!" at the wizards.

"You brat!" Moody roared like a beast and lunged at him.  
_  
"Stupefy"_s and "_Petrificus Totalus"_es passed him as he attempted to dance through the flurry of spells. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw the image of himself—L... and he was tutting with a disapproving frown.

Anger washed over Harry like a heavy wave in a storm and he quickly stopped his step and turned around to cast whatever spell managed to catch the tip of his tongue first—

He was quickly brought down by a binding spell to the chest and he fell onto the ground in a clumsy manner. His grip on his wand was still fierce, and slowly Harry felt himself coming back and the crate of L opening up and spreading like a recreating wildfire...

"... Harry?" Remus breathed from above him.

Harry shut his eyes and did not answer.

The others took this as an affirmative and McGonagall gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh, Potter. We've been looking so frantically for you, you silly boy!"

Harry opened his eyes and stared at her impassively. Seeming unfazed by his blank stare unlike his other companions, Moody picked up old habits and began to report to Harry, "You-Know-Who's taken over Hogwarts. All the children are—"

Harry quickly intervened before they could attack his soft spot. "I miss the part where I come in," he stated smoothly as if he wasn't on the ground indignitly.

"... Potter..." McGonagall muttered in disbelief while Moody became irritated and had to squash his want in kicking the boy in the ribs. "What the hell are you talking about Potter!"

"I've failed once. What good can I do now?"

Remus pressed his lips together and slowly bent down to the younger man's level, looking down at him with soft eyes. "Harry... you're our last hope."

Then there really wasn't much hope left. "I was never a hope, Professor," and he left it at that, allowing himself to slowly sink into the back of his mind where everything was familiar and nobody expected him to save worlds.

Then Remus released him from the invisible bindings.

Harry blinked and slowly sat up. "Please leave."

There was a hint of desperation in his words and none of them recognized it in the deeper, much more collected voice. So with McGonagall leading them, the three turned to leave. Harry ignored the reproachful glare Moody shot him before the door shut and Harry was left alone in the room.

There was a painful knocking in his chest, like the old Harry Potter was banging on his heart, roaring and demanding to be let out... so he could save the day...

Or be killed.

And Harry as L blinked as he realized he was suddenly on his feet and was making his way over to Snape's room. He opened the door without knocking and spotted the dark-haired man propped up against the headboard of his bed, several textbooks laid out before him and he looked up, black eyes widening in surprise. "L?"

Harry nodded and hesitantly stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Do you... do you mind if I stayed here? I just desire some silent company."

There was an understanding that passed between the two of them and Snape looked back down to the book in his lap. "As you wish."

Harry crawled into the dark-leather chair that sat near the fireplace in Snape's room, relishing the feel of the cool texture against his heated skin. His head was throbbing, something he felt comfortable with as he experienced it after several days without sleep and downing an unhealthy amount of sugar-clumped coffee.

It wasn't long before Harry fell asleep, breathing softly and curling up into himself with a thumb pressed against his bottom lip. Snape paused in his reading to stare at the young man for a few seconds before he walked over to him, blanket in hand and spread the cotton cover over Harry's thin, bony body. "I don't know what happened..." he whispered, hoping that even in his sleep Harry might be able to hear, "... but I don't want to see you like this again, L."

And Snape returned to his place on the bed, and resumed reading.

* * *

  
It was in the middle of the night. Harry woke suddenly at feeling a screaming protest from his neck at being tilted in such an uncomfortable position for such a long time, and stretched his neck to the side and sighed after hearing a loud crack from it.

The white blanket that was draped over his shoulders slid off. Harry captured it between his fingers in wonder and looked up to Snape's bed and saw the man sleeping on top of a Fourth Edition Biology book with a forest-green Life Science text creased open over his hip.

His lips twitched into a small smile. "Thank you, Shen," he called softly. The man snorted and shifted in his sleep. "Shut up, L."  
A slight laughter escaped him before he could stop it.

* * *

This new case was strange.

"The civilians are beginning to believe that it's some sort of disease, however none of scientists nor the doctors can see anything wrong with their body that is consistent or lethal. It's as if their entire system shut down at once. In fact, the strangest thing about this is that the bodies that have been diagnosed with this are all healthy. Now a single thing wrong with them."

"... no signs of scars? Past ailments? Cancer, perhaps?"

"Nothing. Even those who have, in the past, had some sort of respiratory problem or even a dangerously high cholesterol... there's no sign of it."

Harry licked his lips and frowned. There was definitely something out of place here... "A list of the deceased?"

"We're still trying to find all of them. And then there's the problem with if it was that 'mysterious disease' that hit them or not."

Gently chewing on his thumb, Harry nodded. He had a small idea... but only prayed he was mistaken. "Very well. Please contact me if something comes up again, Watari."

There was a small part of him that was telling him that he shouldn't get involved in this, that nothing will end up well if he was mixed up in this. But Harry pushed it aside stubbornly and shut his laptop off without a word.

As if hearing that Harry was finished, Snape opened the door and peeked inside, frowning. "Do you want to go out for a bit?" he asked in a whisper as he learned the first time he accidentally walked into the room while Harry was on the job.

Harry didn't look up from his place on the ground and sat in silence for a moment before answering, "Yes." And with a hand on his knee, Harry pushed himself up and walked over to Snape's side, giving the man a small smile. Snape blinked and his brows furrowed at it.

"How's the case coming along?" he asked as he walked alongside the young detective. They exited the building together and Snape distinctly heard Harry's large inhale of breath the moment the sun hit his waxy skin.

Harry slouched into a comfortable position and stuck his hands into his pockets, toes wiggling in his loose shoes. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure on who is responsible... but I'd rather not get involved."

"Mm? Dangerous?"

Harry eyes darkened and he looked down at the asphalt ground. "Yes."

There was an extended silence between them, and Snape tiredly ran a hand through his hair. "... you watch what you're doing. Don't be reckless."

"Hm..."

They reached the cafe quick enough, and in a comfortable silence. Snape excused himself immediately after ordering, making his way to the restroom while Harry didn't take his eyes off the empty seat in front of him.

The seat was quickly filled when Remus sat down with a frown.

"Please don't come to me when I have company," Harry warned, praying to God Remus didn't recognize Snape.

But the man said nothing about Harry's companion and quickly delved into darker business. "You know don't you? The Death Eaters are beginning their purge."

There was no use in lying, Harry thought, and shrugged, "Yes, I know."

"... are you just going to let it happen?"

A ringing silence rose between them and Harry carefully fidgeted. "... what can I do?"

Remus sighed, running a scarred hand through his fair hair. "Harry," he started slowly, missing the way the other man twitched at the name. "You don't understand. You're vital to this war."

Harry pursed his lips and met the tired, amber eyes. They were practically begging him, a watery gold that reflected his image like a mirror. Harry narrowed his own dark-colored eyes. "I'm not strong enough, Professor."

Remus glanced up over Harry's shoulder than back at Harry, "Meet me here tomorrow around this time, _alone._" With a last look, the werewolf stood from the seat and hastily exited the building, pulling a hat, which he held in his right hand the entire time, on. It was only seconds later that Snape reappeared and sat back down in the same spot where Remus last was... Harry looked down at his toes.

"...L?" the older man asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No... although, I do feel a bit off."

Snape stared at the bundle of messy, black hair for a long while before clicking his tongue in annoyance and he fished out his wallet with a crease in his forehead. "I'll package your cake and make the coffee to-go. Let's get the hell out of here."

Harry smiled lightly and nodded. "Thank you."

As he said he would, Snape passed a white box containing Harry's purchased cake over to him and sipped at his coffee with a peaceful look. They left, almost in the same manner that Remus had earlier; pushing the glass door aside and squinting against the sun.

Harry held his cake preciously, listening to the comforting _clack-clack-clack_ of his loose sneakers as they slapped against his heel. It was the sound females' thong-shoes would make when they walked down the stairs. Harry strangely appreciated the noise as it would calm him. He told this piece of information to one of the girls once. That following week, all the young girls took to walking all around in their own flip-flops with a satisfied smile on each of their faces.

Mello approached him about this, demanding to know if he was required to wear "those noisy, girly slippers" as well. Harry assured him that he had no need to and the boy relaxed immediately with a sigh, "Because Spinner was saying that I had to. If I wanted to succeed L, that is."

Succeed L. Harry wondered when that had become such a big honor in the orphanage. Succeeding the man who had only lived in the orphanage for a good six months when more than half of the children had lived there longer...

Even they worked to become like him. Because he was their hero.

But this was much more different. He wasn't back at Hogwarts, expected to save the lives of countless people, for being born on a bad day.

He had no special power in the wizarding world... not unless they counted his obvious talent on a broom and in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But he was a natural athlete in some quirky way and Defense Against the Dark Arts was entirely due to Remus's teaching. The man was a wonderful teacher.

So if he was expected to save the Wizarding World against an uprising dictator of Evil... then why was he so apt in the muggle-life?

Harry chewed on his lip. None of it was logical.

They reached the front gate and Snape quickly pressed in the code for their entrance.

While the barred-gate squeaked open, Snape turned back to Harry, dark eyes staring down at him almost dangerously. "Are you really alright?"

Harry contemplated for bit, wondering whether a blunt or secretive answer would irritate the man more. "... the ghosts of my past are returning to haunt me," he stated simply, walking into the front garden and nodded when Flora, the resident botanist of the children, waved. Snape didn't reply, so Harry looked up at him and saw that the man held a far away look in his eyes. "... would you mind if I slept in your chair tonight as well?" he asked.

"Your posture is horrible as it is. Go sleep in your own bed," Snape replied smoothly, not even looking down at the other man. Harry's lips twitched into what resembled a smile before curving into a frown. "... please, Shen."

Snape stopped, and glared at him, black eyes ablaze in confused frustration. "What's _wrong_ with you?" he demanded. Harry paused in his step as well and turned to look over his shoulder, his own dark eyes boring holes into Snape's skull. Then he looked down at the cobblestone walkway. "There is a fear inside me. That I might disappear in the middle of the night."

Harry knew this was a fear Snape was familiar with as well. It showed when a sympathetic look crossed the man's face but left like a flash. Snape swallowed thickly and continued his pace. "Come on," he grumbled.

That night, Harry fell asleep in Snape's chair.

----------

"L!" Matt cried, running up to the detective with a cheeky grin. "Are you free today?"

Harry pondered for a bit, his head tilting to the side as he stared at the boy. Matt was often preoccupied with his games, so it was bit rare for him to ask for some of Harry's time... unlike the other children who were quite eager to bother Harry whenever they had time. "... No," he finally answered and Matt's shoulders fell. "But I will make time."

A bright smile came upon Matt's boyish face and he nodded. "Alright! I'm going to bring Mello too! Go wait in the game room!" And he disappeared behind the next corner.

Harry frowned lightly, but turned around to go to the game room as instructed.

The game room, unlike the name suggested, was not a room full of game consoles and controllers surrounded by brightly colored walls.

Three rows and five groups of computers filled the white-wall room, and a single tea table that Harry often occupied in the very back. This was Matt's haven.

It wasn't a second later that the said-boy came dashing in, nearly running into Harry's slouched backside with Mello's wrist in hand. He laughed sheepishly and Harry gave a small smile in return. "I've already called for the tea! Lucy promised some scones too, since I helped out when they made the cake last week? Remember that?"

Harry "hmm"ed and made his way over to his table, Mello and Matt following closely behind him. They each took their seats, Harry pulling up his knees in his most comfortable position. "How have you two been doing?"

Mello flushed a pleased pink and smiled, twin dimples appearing on each cheek. "I've received such a high score on my last biology exam! Mr. Stevens said I'll be able to take Advanced Chemistry after I complete the class!"

Matt lazyily chewed his bubblegum and rolled his eyes. "And tell him how Nia is doing right now."

There was a chilled silence as Mello's head whipped to his right and he glared furiously at the brunet, his cheeks an angry red. His fists trembled on his knees and Mello looked ready to smack the other boy, but Harry's presence kept him at bay and he instead turned to stare holes into the table.

Harry wisely didn't ask, but already deducted why the comment would've brought such a heated reaction from the blond child. "And you Matt?"

Playing with his sleeve absently, Matt shrugged. "I've been doing okay."

"He's still ranking third," Mello added triumphantly. Matt shrugged again, obviously not caring. The tea and scones chose this moment to arrive in the hands of the smaller, children-chefs who turned giddy at the sight of Harry and clumsily placed the cups and dishes down. Harry dismissed their hasty movements as his attention was caught by a treacle scone at the side of the other jam-filled biscuits.

Mello grabbed a scone covered in melted chocolate and lifted his nose into the air arrogantly. "Hmph, well you'll see." He sank his teeth into the treat and downed his cup of tea. "I'm gonna grow up to succeed L."

Harry looked up from his own treacle scone in interest at this current topic. "Why do you wish to do so?"

Mello grinned proudly and wiped his mouth by the back of his hand. "Because what L does is the best. You help people and bring justice to the bad guys. I think that's something to be proud of. I want to become the next L and just like you, I want to be the light through the darkness!"

There was a slight tremor in Harry's heart and he looked down at his toes. If he could, he would've blushed.

And there it was again. A monster inside of him that was screaming release.

Harry nodded slightly and reached for the teapot, "I'm glad you have such an ambition. Tea?"

Mello gratefully accepted, outstretching his cup and allowing Harry to tip the dark liquid into the china cup.

They chatted, well... Mello and Matt chatted while Harry gave his own small comments inbetween as their conversation topics ranged from studies, latest fashion (to which Harry had a surprisingly large knowledge of...), technology, and politics.

Harry picked up another raspberry jam scone between his thumb and forefinger, keeping it a healthy distance from him as he added in his own opinion to Mello's hefty disapproval of the Prime Minister. "Mello, the Minister can be a surprising man..." Harry knew, he met the bloke before. "And you speak of happiness. What do you find to be happiness?"

"Chocolate," the adolescent immediately answered. "And you seeing me as an equal."

Harry smiled behind the rim of his teacup. "Such a simple life..."

Whether Mello should've felt offended or happy, he didn't know. So he simply leaned over the table with a narrow-eyed look. "And what's _your_ happiness, L?"

There was a pause from the dark-haired man as he set his cup down on the white saucer. "Happiness..." he sighed. Seeing Hermione and Ron grinning at him with a slightly mischievous glint in Ron's bright, brown eyes... perhaps it would be seeing Sirius with a canine-like smile, beckoning him forward with a picture of his parents in his bony hands... or feeling the rush of magic through his body, the scarlet wave of light that made his hair stand on end—"Wishing for things I could never have again. ... would satisfaction bring happiness? Although I have never really been satisfied."

Mello made a face. "L?"

Harry's eyes drifted over to the clock that hung above the chalkboard and he stood up. "I'm sorry Mello, Matt. I am expected by my date."

"Oh?" the blonde murmured, disappointed. He quickly recovered and smiled, bouncing up on his feet as well. "Will you go on a date with me next time?"

"Certainly."

Matt stuck out a tongue and leaned back into his chair. "I don't wanna go on a date with L. He's _old_."

There was a tick of annoyance in the back of Harry's mind and he smiled darkly at the brunet. "Oh? And what's _your_ concept of age, Mr. Jeevas?"

"... don't you have a date?"

Harry turned away from the nervous child and promptly stuck his thumb into his mouth. "Hm, I must go. Punctuality is vital, afterall."

He quickly exchanged goodbyes with the other two before heading out to the cake-house, a feeling of dread laying in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

"You're early," Remus said as Harry took the seat opposite from him. A waitress quickly came as he settled himself and he simply ordered a cup of coffee.

Harry nodded and placed his hands over his kneecaps. "You appear to be as well."

Remus smirked and tossed his tawny hair back. "Ah, just a bit," he lifted his teacup and sipped it slowly, setting it down then grabbing his fork to help himself to a slice of chocolate cake that was already half-gone. "How have you been?"

"Excellent."

"What have you been doing?"

"... ... Professor Lupin."

Remus raised a hand, smiling pleasantly. "Ah, please... just Remus is fine."

Harry contemplated his decisions for a minute, the waitresses returned in the midst of his thinking and set down his coffee with a sweet smile. Harry nodded in approval at the five milk-cups at the side, and reached over for the sugar bowl. "... Remus..." he said finally, trying to appease the other man, "what's the meaning of this?"

One cube.

"Please, Harry... come back with us to Hogwarts."

Two cubes.

"Remus, call me L."

Three cubes.

"... come back with us Harry."

Four cubes.

"No."

Five cubes.

His cup was slightly full by now and Harry peeled open his first milk-carton and poured the contents into the thick and sweet mixture.

Remus watched all this with a skeptical look and clenched his hands into tight fists. "Look, you don't seem to understand the situation we're in! Death Eaters are _teaching_ the students, Harry. We can't get them out, and the ones that are luck are hiding out in America!" He sighed, amber eyes downcasted to the scarred hands in his lap. "The Order is dying with each attack... we only have so many members... people are losing hope Harry."

Harry didn't answer for a while. Instead, he stirred his coffee in a leisurely pace, watching the light-brown mixture in peace. "... I'm sorry," he finally settled on. "But I have tried. I tried and I have lost." He stopped mixing and dropped his silver spoon onto the side of his saucer. "I'm not willing to risk my life for this, no more. I have reasons to live now."

"... ... you're not Harry Potter anymore."

"No, I'm not," Harry confessed, pinching the handle of his cup.

Remus nodded, helping himself to another bite of his cake. "You'll realize," he said in confidence. "You'll come back to us in the end, once you realize." He swallowed with difficulty and looked up, face paler than it had been when Harry first came in. "What happened to your eyes?"

Harry blinked in reflex and lifted a hand. "Colored contacts. My eyes were too expressive, there was a certain need for me to hide away my emotions. Darker colors seemed to fix that."

"Like Lily," Remus whispered, mostly to himself. He held a small smile on his aged face. "She always had the brightest eyes."

Harry didn't reply.

Remus didn't expect him to. "Have you put them behind you as well?"

"No," Harry breathed, "I just haven't thought on them."

Remus sighed, his eyes closing momentarily as he tried to slow his screaming heart. There were so many things wrong with this, and he couldn't do a single thing to make it right. This figure sitting before him, with his stiff posture, uncombed hair, and dark eyes was not the son of his best friend. "I'm going to go. You're birth is destiny, you'll find a way back to us... intentionally or not." And he left.

Harry was alone in his silence, staring into his cup of coffee. He lifted the white porcelain and downed its contents.

* * *

Harry sighed, fighting the want to roll his eyes when he spotted Snape next to a patch of cacti that was personally planted by Spinner, the resident troublemaker. "Studying the plants again, Shen?"

Snape flinched in surprise, then relaxed as he realized the speaker. "Where were you?" he asked stiffly.

"The Coffee House."

"Again?"

"Yes."

Snape paused, as if seeing something on Harry's face that was annoying to him and he wanted to swat it off. But the man stood, his long limbs straightening out as he did so as well. "Come, show me to the carnations."

The carnations were planted next to the roses, farther to the fence in order to keep the younger children away from them. They were the prized flowers of the resident gardeners of the orphanage, and Snape seemed to miss that detail as he simply plucked one of them straight from the ground for study. Then he strode over to the patch of white lilies and snapped a bulb off and handed it to Harry. "You were in a mood," he quickly explained, his face twisted into a grimace. "Even men enjoy receiving flowers, you told me before that lilies were your favorite. Here, take this and stop dragging your feet around like a bloody child."

Harry was more than surprised as he numbly accepted the offering and stared at it in a mixture of horror and pleasant shock. "... you just gave me a flower," he muttered dumbly, for the first time in six months.

Snape snapped in irritation, "Obviously! Hurry on, L! I don't have all—" then he stopped, gasped and dropped to his knees all in the same second. Harry jolted back in surprise before rushing forward to aid the other man. "Shen!"

Snape's dark hair made a curtain around his face, but his fingers were clearly digging into his covered left arm. Harry lunged an arm forward and ripped the offending sleeve from the rest of the shirt and his eyes widened at the sign of the darkening and very much alive Dark Mark. "Shen!" he called when Snape's fingers pierced skin and blood flowed down to the grass. "Shen!"

Another breathless gasp, and Snape's head snapped up. A dark mist began rising all around them, and Harry gulped, his hand moving to his thigh and his head whirled around when he didn't feel the familiar bump of his wand.  
The dark mist began taking a shape, and Harry could faintly hear Snape whispering, "Get out of here L... get out... get out..."

But he couldn't move. His legs died on him and Harry could only stare in terrified realization when the Death Eaters solidified and a cackling laughter rose to the air. Harry involuntarily drew himself closer to Snape.

And before them, Voldemort materialized like a nightmare.

The white, bald face broke into a sneer. "What's this Severus? Protected by a muggle? Have you sunk so low?" Red eyes shined in mirth.

Neither replied to the question and Harry's sharp eyes searched for an escape point. "... can you protect yourself?" he whispered to his companion.

"What?" Snape hissed back, face pallid and sunken.

"Don't ask questions, we don't have time to waste."

Snape grit his teeth, black eyes rounding. "L," he struggled the word out, "I don't _have a wand_."

Whether Harry just gave his identity away or not never fully clicked when Harry heard Snape's honest reply as Voldemort heard their whispers and chose the moment to intervene. "What are you two scum muttering for? A final prayer? No need, I'll send you both to hell. _Crucio!!_"

The bright light made its way towards Snape, but Harry, with a strong resolve, took the brunt of the spell for him.

It was a pain that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry fell, his body writhing unnaturally on the ground, but with his teeth gnawing on the dirt below him, he fought back the scream that bubbled up in his chest. It was such a strong, stabbing sort of hurt that got him from straight in the stomach first before spreading throughout the rest of his body—much in the same way as a disease.

"L!" Snape cried out in alarm but didn't dare move as one of the many Death Eaters whipped out their own wand and threatened him with it.

As the spell faded, still leaving behind a sort of panic in his trembling body, Harry spat out the grass that found its way into his mouth and he grounded himself firmly onto the dirt. "Bloody hell..." he cursed, gasping.

Voldemort made a displeased face and raised his wand once more. "Useless muggle. Why don't you _scream_ for me. _CRUCIO!!_"

Harry let out a small yelp in surprise as he bit down on his tongue and his body scratched against the well-tilled earth. His neck was beginning to ache and he felt like he was going to burst from the inside-out...

Fire was devouring him. A painful fire that whipped at his skin. Something was snapping in his body, it sounded awfully similar to cable cords—then the darkness...

Snape swallowed what was trying to escape his stomach and tried to ease his trembling as he watched Harry struggle on the ground with some unknown force that Snape was very familiar with...

Then he snapped out of his trance when a trail of blood began to flow from Harry's nostril.

Gathering up all the unused magic from within his core, he grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt, wrenching him up and wrapping an arm around the younger man's chest. He took a second to sneer at Voldemort and flip through the memories in his mind...

And he wandlessly apparated.

To Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

-be continued-

I am actually very displeased with this chapter. And I've already said no slash in this story, and so there will be no slash. Snape and Harry's relationship is completely friendly. This is just what I had before I came to that conclusion, and I didn't fancy changing it.  
Now, do note that I am a greedy person, and would appreciate all of you reviewing and telling me your thoughts of this horrendous chapter. Yes?


	5. Chapter 4

I have finally completed Death Note: The Manga. The ending did not bode well for me. D:

**Chapter 4**

McGonagall slowly chewed the on the tip of her wand, blinking wildly when Moody slapped her wrist for it. All the remaining Order members stared in faint amusement, some even smiling fondly. McGonagall coughed into her hand and turned to Remus, "You said you met with Potter? What exactly did he say?"

Remus looked up, then back down, "He refused."

"I think we got that the first time he kicked us out," Moody drawled, both eyes rolling to the ceiling in exasperation. Remus gave him dirty look, his lips turning at the corners into a frown and he replied steadily, "Well, unlike you lot, I tried to hold a decent conversation with him," his attention went back to his clasped hands that sat in his lap, "I hate to say it... but he looked happy. And I'd hate even more to ruin that for him."

"But He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now knows Potter's alive. Is he was ignorant of that, we would not have bothered him," McGonagall tried to reason feebly... tried to convince herself that this was all for Harry's own good.

"But in the end... it's still him we need..."

McGonagall sighed and thought back to the dark-haired boy—no... man who she had been introduced to just a few days ago, "The last time we saw him... he... he looked so..." he paused, searching for the right word.

"Creepy?" Moody supplied with an indifferent shrug. McGonagall glared at him from the corner of her eyes and snorted, "Look who's talking."

Before the two could begin to through spells at each other, Remus quickly intervened, "His eyes... he hid his eyes, remember?"

McGonagall nodded, turning around from the still-irritated Moody, "Yes... they were black. And he was so pale..."

"Had the darkest circles under his eyes..." Remus added.

"He always seemed to have trouble sleeping," the feline animagus informed the group, her hands clenching and unclenching around her wand, "Often caught after curfew..."

"I know he had nightmares... especially after Dumbledore's death. He has this fear of dying in his sleep."

McGonagall's head snapped up and she whirled around to face Ronald Weasley, "..._ what?_"

The redhead frowned, his brown eyes looking at the carpet underneath his feet. He hated it when the subject of Harry came up... always, always did. Even when they came with the news that they had found him... he hated it even more when they came back without him, "... he thinks he'll be stuck in his nightmares if he dies during them..."

Molly gasped, her eyes round and wet, "... the poor boy..."

McGonagall's face was a shade paler than before, and her mouth was set in a grim line, "... we can't have him along with us..." she concluded. Moody nodded in agreement, though he seemed slightly more approving of this decision, "We don't need the brat. Now, yesterday's attack—"

Suddenly, as loud as a gunshot (though most of the room's inhabitants didn't have a clue on what that was), a loud crack was heard in the next room and echoed into their's. Everyone started, jumping to their feet and hands reaching for they wands, looking at McGonagall for the call, they all rushed into the room when she extended a long arm towards the shabby, old door and open their mouths for a curse—

Then they all froze. Staring in a mixture of emotions: shock, disbelief, horror, and anger.

Moody was the first to regain his senses at the sight of one Severus Snape huddled over the ground, dark hair around his face and drenched in cold sweat. The ex-auror stabbed his wand into the air and his face turned beastly, all ready to strike—

"Alastor!" McGonagall called and grabbed his wand hand, forcing him back, "Wait just a moment!"

Remus stared, jaw loose and eyes wide, "... Severus..." he gasped.

The sound of his name brought Snape back to the situation at hand and he looked up at the gathered wizards all around him. He shuddered briefly and his pupils dialated, "Please," he rasped, his arms underneath his long jacket shifting, "Please... save him..." and he pulled out the immobile body of Harry out from his jacket.

Remus paled, "Oh my God."

"Is that—" McGonagall started, rushing forward and startling Snape enough to make the man draw back and pull Harry further into his protective grip, "It's the muggle boy who helped me," he supplied simply, "The Dark Lord appeared... he took the Crutiatus Curse in my stead. Please help him!"

Remus slowly approached Snape and bent down to his level. With trembling arms he took Harry from Snape and with a confident nod to the former Potions Master, he turned into the next room, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Poppy!! _Poppy!!_"

Moody narrowed his eyes, not ever taking them off Snaoe, "Why the hell did you come back?" he demanded.

Snape didn't so much as move a muscle, staring at the hanging door that Remus broke when he kicked it open with Harry busying his arms.

"Did you think you could get away with what you did, huh?" Moody advanced threateningly, his magical eye pinned onto the other man. All the other Order members stood at the side, quiet and trying to understand what was happening.

But McGonagall also took a step forward, though her tone and eyes were less demanding and more chilled, "Severus... Did you risk your life for that boy?"

Snape did not reply, but McGonagall knew the answer well enough, "Why?"

A small light ignited in those bottomless, black eyes as he turned to regard the former Headmistress, "... because... L gave me freedom."

"L?"

"That's his name."

McGonagall pursed her lips and also turned her gaze upon the door surviving off of one, squeaking hinge, "I see. Alastor, put Severus into a room, place heavy wards over any opening, and keep watch."

The man looked about ready to protest, but after a final and long look at the man crumpled over the ground, he sniffed and reached out to grasp Snape by the arm, "Come on traitor," he growled then marched upstairs, his uncomfortable leg clonking with every step.

But Snape paused for a few, turning back to McGonagall with strange look in his eyes, "Minerva, if he wakes up... please tell me."

McGonagall didn't have it in her heart to decline his request, so she soundlessly nodded. The man's lips twitched and his face relaxed. He followed Moody up without another word.

* * *

"Poppy!"

Poppy Pomfrey efficiently tucked a few loose gray strands of hair back into her bun and met the amber-eyed werewolf with an annoyed glare, "Remus!" she called, all fixed on reprimanding the man, "What are you—"

But she was silenced immediately when she caught a body in Remus's arms, "Harry!" he gasped for breath, "Harry was held under the Crutiatus by You-Know-Who!"

"Harry Potter!" she asked in shock, reeling back for moment before regaining herself and snapping, "Well hurry up and lay him here!"

Here was a long table that was covered with a feather-filled blanket and foam pillows all around. After making sure Harry was completely supine and surrounded by protective pillows, Pomfrey shoved a silver basin filled with water and a wet cloth hanging over the side towards the other occupant of the room, "Hold the cloth under his nose and apply direct pressure over the bridge, sit him up and lean him forward now!"

Remus did as he was told, although slightly panicked as Pomfrey's voice began to raise in volume. The medi-witch did a quick search around Harry's eyes and ears, then took his wrist into her hands and checked his pulse, "Hypertension..." she murmured, "He'll be alright. There will be a few after effects, but Potter's gained a surprisingly strong immunity towards the Crutiatus. We can only be glad it's not his maxillary artery. He could've drowned on his own blood with the way _you_ were carrying him."

Remus flushed and smiled sheepishly, "I never was a very good medic."

The older woman snorted and walked over to her counter, searching through the few, remaining potions that lined the rows, "Indeed," she drawled, returning with a familiar, blue bottle. She shooed Remus's hands away and wiped away the remaining blood with the cloth. The blood clot up in Harry's nose and she felt it safe to tip the potion into the man's mouth and forcing him to swallow.

Harry coughed violently, tasting the potion again for the first time in six months and it was absolutely horrible! Remus leaned forward, keeping the other from thrashing too roughly, "Harry! Harry can you hear me?"

Pomfrey reached forward and brushed his hair back to dab at the gathering sweat, but paused, "His scar's burned raw..." she whispered and dropped her eyes in pity.

McGonagall entered the room, her hat placed awkwardly on her head and face sunken with exhaustion, "Will he be alright?"

The Medi-Witch briefly glanced up at the newcomer and nodded, "He should. He's tired though... lacking sleep, noticeable malnutrition, high cholesterol..."

Remus made a face, "The last time I saw him, he ordered a coffee, dumped at least five sugar cubes and another five cartons of milk—"

"Clearly," Pomfrey cut in, slightly irritated now, "that's the reason of his high cholesterol. I swear I won't allow him to even _look_ at sweets again!" she grumbled , still wiping his face with a mother's kindness.

"What of Severus?" Remus asked McGonagall. The woman hesitated, obviously trying to choose her words carefully, "... ... he didn't look injured. We'll have Poppy look into him later."

"... how long do you think Harry and he met ago?"

"I don't know. A decent amount of months perhaps? Severus held him dearly though... as if Harry was his own son... I don't think he knows of Harry's identity. He called him 'L.'"

"Please..." a boyish voice, though hoarse and forced, whispered, startling everyone. Pomfrey leaned over and tucked the now awake Harry further into the blankets, "Go back to sleep Potter," she ordered.

Harry easily ignored the woman and turned to look at McGonagall, his dark eyes bloodshot and slightly discolored, "Please don't tell him..."

McGonagall's brows furrowed and she peered at the unwavering man. She nodded, "I won't."

Remus made a displeased noise, but shrugged instead of protesting, "... then... we'll have to start calling you 'L,'" he pouted.

Harry would've smiled if he had the energy to do so, "I was L for a long time now, Remus. For six months, I've lived as L."

He could've sworn Remus replied with a grumbled, "Doesn't mean that I like it..." but Remus's reply was all just a bundle of words that sounded strange to Harry. McGonagall cut in and spoke in a normal volume and clear tone, "Even so, you will not be able to go back to Winchester alone."

"Of course," Harry agreed instantly, "But I still have a certain need for my laptop."

Remus furrowed his brows and looked at McGonagall who promptly nodded and grabbed the werewolf's arm, "Very well, we'll go now. We must also check to see if Voldemort has done anything to the orphanage..."

Pomfrey shot up like a bullet at this and jabbed a finger in their direction, "Oh no you won't! My patient will be staying here!"

"Oh, Mr. L will be staying. Remus and I will go."

Said-man looked at his former Transfiguration Professor and mouthed, "Laptop?"

McGonagall ignored the marauder and looked to a thoughtful Harry. Black eyes stared blankly at her and Harry spoke around the thumb in his mouth, "Hm, then you will need to retrieve my valuable items. You may ask Wammy to retrieve my belongings for you. Of course, he won't simply hand you my personal items. 'Nia is first' should do the trick. Yes... please tell him that."

"Wammy? 'Nia is first?'"

Harry nodded and allowed Pomfrey to tuck the blankets up to his chin and slap his hand from his mouth, "Wammy is the caretaker of the orphanage," and he looked away, "He is the one who found me."

"I see..." Remus murmured, not knowing what to make of this. It was McGonagall who stepped up, hand still curled around his arm, and apparated them away with farewell or warning.

He really didn't know what to make of this.

* * *

They reached the Wammy's House without a problem and did a quick look over for Voldemort or Death Eaters, but there were no signs of either of them around the large orphanage. With a curt nod to each other, McGonagall raised her fist and rapped her knuckles against the mammoth, white doors.

"Yes?" A young girl opened the door, and glanced up questioningly at the two adults, "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for a Wammy—"

"I'll get him!" the girl chirped and dashed away from the door, calling at the top of her lungs. McGonagall and Remus exchanged glances and stood awkwardly at the open door, waiting patiently for Wammy.

And an elder man appeared at the door, glasses slipping down from his nose and he pushed them back up, "How can I help you?"

"Good day," McGonagall started, stepping forward, "Mr. L has come with us for the time being, and he requested that we retrieve his possessions."

Wammy paused and blinked, staring at them solemnly for a long while before replying, "L has? ... I'm afraid I cannot hold you up on that until I see proof that L has indeed sent you."

For a quick second, McGonagall turned to give Remus a hesitant look then faced the caretaker, eyes rolled up to the sky, "... he... he told us to tell you: 'Nia is first...' or something akin to that..." she trailed off, her face flushed and annoyed.

She was so sure that Potter was just messing with her, looking for a chance to escape again—

"Very good. If you'll follow me."

"Eh?"

McGonagall watched Wammy walk away, feeling a bit numb in her unmoving feet. But she was propelled forward by a shove from her companion.

After throwing Remus a cold glare, she promptly fell into a moderate pace behind Wammy as to not get lost in the large and very clean orphanage.

They climbed the zig-zag staircase up to the top floor and walked down the hall to the room furthest down the left. Wammy stopped in front of the plain, white, double doors and pulled out a golden key from within his front pocket and twisted it in the keyhole.

A sharp click was his reward as well as the opening of the door.

The lights came on automatically from their movements and Wammy entered swiftly and purposefully, beginning to gather up all of Harry's required items.

McGonagall and Remus were more hesitant in intruding into the room, looking around in wonder and the bare, white walls and unused bed in the center of the room. The only thing in the room that was vibrantly colored was the red chair that stood next to the ash-filled fireplace.

"L is currently in the middle of a case," Wammy intervened, breaking their train of thought, "so he must take these," he lifted up a laptop and several other strange gadgets, neatly placing them into a black suitcase, "And he has forgotten his phone..."

Remus, although still intrigued by this "laptop" thing, was slightly confused by Wammy's earlier comment, "... case?"

"Quite," the elder man answered smoothly, "He is, afterall, the world's best detective."

Shock was not a word for the electricity that ran down both Remus and McGonagall's spines. Their eyes widened and rounded and they turned to each other with loose jaws and stiff tongues.

"Has L asked for his teapot?"

McGonagall's neck near snapped at the speed she turned it, "N-no..."

"I see. So I see he will not have a need for sweets as well?"

"Our medic will not allow it."

Wammy smiled fondly, nodding in full understanding, "Sarah, our resident nurse, always tries to keep him away from sweets. But he has an affinity for them," and he returned to packing, folding white shirts and jeans.

McGonagall looked at Remus who also caught her eye and whispered, "He does have a strange love for treacle tarts..."

"And the pudding..." Remus replied, agreeing.

"Cauldron cakes..."

"Sugar quills..."

"Chocolate frogs..."

Remus snorted, "Hah, sugar fiend."

"Here we are..." Wammy grunted, pulling the suitcase behind him and passing it into the outstretched arm of Remus, "That'll be all—"

"L!!" a sudden, echoing voice called from outside, "L—! Oh... who are you?"

Standing at the door was a small, blond haired boy, clad in black and a disgruntled gleam in his dark eyes.

Remus smiled kindly and turned to face the newcomer, "We're friends of L."

The boy made a face, almost skeptical and disbelieving, "L? But the only adult that L hangs out with is Shen."

"... Shen?"

"Taaaall, scary looking man with black hair and a _big_ nose—"

Wammy came out from behind Remus, a frown on his face, "Mello."

"Oh! Wammy!" Said-Mello exclaimed and turned to face him instead of Remus, "Where's L? Is he busy? I know how he gets during a case, but I believe a long break will do him some good and—"

"He is currently unavailable," the orphanage caretaker cut-in. Mello looked outraged, his foot stomping on the ground in reflex, "_What_! But he said he'll take me out once...—"

Remus kept his polite and gentle smile, attempting to coax the distressed boy, "Maybe he'll go with you when he comes back."

Mello turned back to the werewolf, clearly displeased and unimpressed by the other man as he looked him up and down with a cold eye, "Well, you better bring him back soon," and with a huff, he ran back out.

"... he's good with children it seems..." Remus commented slowly, not knowing how to respond to Mello's obvious dislike.

Wammy, however, seemed oblivious to it—or at least used to such a reaction from the child, "Yes... Mello and Nia are especially close to him. They both hope to succeed him."

"Succeed?"

"Quite," then Wammy looked at the small clock that hung lamely over the fireplace, "I'm afraid I have business to attend to," he announced, turning towards the door, "It was a pleasure meeting you. Sir and Madam. This door will lock automatically, so you may leave whenever you are ready," and he departed, leaving only the two wizards in the room with a heavy, black suitcase in hand.

McGonagall looked up from her shoes and faced Remus's unsure face with an unreadable look, "... the world's best detective..."

An uncomfortable silence rose between them. Lasting for several long minutes, before Remus's sharp and barking laughter shattered it, "The wizarding world's going to have a field day!" he howled.

The witch clicked her tongue in irritation, crossing her arms in thought, "Even if he wasn't, the fact that he spent his time in an orphanage is enough."

"Plus the state that he's in right now."

"He looks and acts like a completely different person..."

Remus snorted, brushing his gray-hair back with a battered hand, "Like he said... Harry Potter is long dead. We only have L," and he smirked, "The world's best detective."

McGonagall shook her head, "Let's go."

* * *

"Back so soon?" Harry asked, looking up when McGonagall and Remus apparated back into the room with a crack.

"Yes," the feline animagus answered curtly, and pressed the suitcase towards the curled up man, "Here they are."

"Ah..." Harry scooted forward, taking the filled trunk and opening it with his forefingers and thumbs. Rifling through the many, neatly piled stacks, he pulled out his laptop from among the mess of items and placed it gently on his makeshift bed.

Watching him open up the notebook and turn it on with mild interest, McGonagall took his advantage of his silence and began talking, "A small boy named Mello was looking for you."

Harry didn't even turn to face her, "Ah... Mello. I believe I promised him a date," he nodded absently and swiftly typed his password for the laptop in, "... where's Snape?" he asked, changing the subject.

"He's with Moody."

"I see."

McGonagall's eyes darkened and she took a hesitant step forward, "... he killed Albus."

"I know," Harry answered, finally turning his blank eyes in their direction, "I was there."

She didn't get it at all. Harry, pale and thin, sat there so confidently and emotionless that it was starting to unnerve her... and irritate her, "Then why didn't you turn him in?"

Harry turned back to his computer, then stuck his thumb between his teeth, "I was on the run from the wizarding world as well, I wouldn't come back for someone like Snape. But then... it'd be a lie to say it wasn't on my mind. I merely forgot."

"Forgot?" Remus repeated, clearly not believing what he was hearing.

McGonagall, however, shook with unbridled rage, "Forgot Albus's death? Forgot Severus's betrayal?!"

Harry clicked his tongue impatiently, the corners of his lips furrowing, "... forgot who he was. For me... Snape has become Shen."

Just in the same manner he himself has forgotten who he truly was... McGonagall placed a hand over her eyes and sighed tiredly, "... rest up _L_," and she turned away, stumbling for the door.

"Goodnight Professor McGonagall, Remus."

Hesitantly following behind the former transfiguration professor, Remus gave Harry one more look before exiting the door and closing it behind him.

Harry paused, looking over his shoulder for a few passing seconds before he turned to his computer screen. A large and gothic "L" was all that was there in the sea of white, "... Watari."

* * *

Snape paced. He was too full of worry, disgust, and his own self-angst that he needed a way to relieve all this stress through nonviolent and quiet means... or else Moody might just find a reason to blast his head from his shoulders.

But Moody was already beginning to get on his case for simply walking, "Stop fuckin' digging a hole into the ground," he growled ferociously. Snape did stop, but did not answer nor turn to face the scarred ex-auror, much more interested in leaning against the wall and chewing on his nails, a habit he unwillingly picked up from Harry.

He was already finished with his left pinky by the time the door opened and McGonagall and Remus stepped into the room, a somber air around them, "Severus," McGonagall called.

Snape got up to his feet and took a step forward, recognizing her... but not pushing, "How is he? Is he alright?"

McGonagall felt the smallest of smiles tug at her lip at his questioning, "Yes. He's fine."

Satisfied with this answer, Snape slid back down to the ground with a small, relieved sigh.

The aged witch walked closer to the Potions Master, her spine becoming stiffer and eyes warier with each step closer, "How did you come across him?"

"Che'," Snape snorted, tossing his dark hair over his shoulder and glaring at a small niche in the wall, "It's quite the opposite. I was near dead and L decided to walk by my alley," a long and rather familiar sneer slipped over his pale lips, "He was rather irritated that I had interrupted his usual visit to the tennis court."

"Tennis?"

"A muggle sport," Snape answered curtly, "Of course, I attempted to escape the moment he brought me to the Wammy's House... he didn't appreciate it and immediately brought me down."

Remus smirked, "Did he bodily tackle you?"

Snape glared up at the werewolf, "No, he did _not_." he snapped, "Although... the scrawny whelp has a hell of a kick. Despite how thin and pale he is... his athletic sense is amazing."

"And the fact that he is the world's greatest detective?" McGonagall asked in disguised interest.

"Hmm," Snape hummed, amused by this interrogation, "You know do you? Hmph... he's intelligent. Incredibly intelligent—and he's sharp as hell. He understands human emotion and behaviours well, even thought he tends to be a person who enjoys solitude. He uses such methods to help him through cases. But he's also childish... so he won't take cases unless it's hand-picked by himself. And he dislikes losing."

Remus smiled, amber eyes swimming with mirth, "You know him well."

Snape laced his fingers together and looked up cooly at the other man, "I respect him."

Moody let out a gruff and sarcastic laughter, "I remember the last person you respected."

"Alastor!" McGonagall reprimanded, horrified by his lack of tact.

But Snape looked thoughtful, staring up at the three of them with a foreign light in his black eyes, "... you obviously haven't found it," he stated ambiguously.

"Found what?"

An extended silence followed the question and Snape seemed to be weighing the decisions and consequences in his mind, "... Dumbledore's will."

The effect was instant. Heads and eyes snapped to the same direction, all facing the spot on the ground where Snape placed himself, sneering at them calmly. Moody pulled out his wand and pressed it against Snape's forehead, "Spill."

"It's in Hogwarts."

McGonagall made a small noise and cursed, "Dammit."

Remus also looked disgruntled, but didn't take his eyes off Snape's crouched form, "What do you mean by 'you obviously haven't found it yet?'"

"Hmph. Meaning that will holds vital information and not just the distribution of his sweets and his bloody chicken."

The two much more aged bodies straightened their backs and frowned in unhidden miff, whilst Remus snorted into his hand, noticeably amused.

"And what is that vital information?" McGonagall asked, though there was a hint of threat in her tone that promised much pain to come if he didn't answer immediately.

Snape seemed to catch the warning as well as his eyes flickered up momentarily before come back down to his hands, "You wouldn't believe me even if I did tell you," he murmured accusingly.

"But it's not just about you," Remus tried to argue with the Potions Master, wanting to know more about this so-called will. He knew Snape enjoyed a good, verbal fight almost as much as he did a physical fight. But from his current state of mind and being... he was just too exhausted to try and take them off track, trick them, or even throw a decent remark back, "What does it say about Harry?"

Snape shrugged, looking disgusted at the mere mention of the boy, "Nothing vital, I promise you."

But then McGonagall stepped forward, her face pale and grim, "What does it say about his mother?"

Remus blinked at this question, confused. What could it have said about Lily Potter? He turned to the silent Snape and saw contemplation lingering in his eyes and he was beginning to bite too deeply on his thumb.

"Snape," Moody warned.

At the call of his name, the former-death-eater looked up and gulped, "Evans is a prodigy."

"What?" Moody snapped, "What shit are you trying to pul—"

"A wizard prodigy."

It sunk in to all the standing wizards as they looked each other in the eyes and found the same bright comprehension.

A wizard prodigy, as the name states, was a genius of the magical world. Whether it was through charms, transfiguration, potions, or any other subject... they would excel beyond average students... a naturally born, perfect wizard.

McGonagall stumbled backwards, a hand over her chin as she muttered under her breath, "It makes sense... so that's why..."

"But why is that so vital?"

Snape stood up, his nostrils flaring and his posture stiff. He clenched and unclenched his fists in a rhythm and hug his heel into the ground, "Because it wasn't 'love' that saved Potter that night. It was Evans' spell."

"A spell!" the animagus woman gasped, feeling weak in the knees suddenly as everything became clear in her mind. The lies and the truths that she had been fed... and Harry Potter's life...

Moody gulped, his magical eyes going haywire in its socket as it tried to get a glimpse at everything... trying to make sure no one was listening in... "A spell that deflects the killing curse—"

Snape nodded, "Right onto the castor."

"Oh Merlin's balls..." McGonagall groaned and fell to the ground. Harry Potter, since he was just an infant, suffered through his life due to one magical spell. One created by his own dead mother...

What would he think? What would he say?

Remus, however, seemed to grasp this dire situation the quickest and he whirled around to face the other two Order members, "We have to get it back," he stated seriously. But everything was going too fast for him... he was having trouble catching up with all this new information, and Snape's victorious smirk wasn't making anything better for him.

Moody nodded to himself, simply bobbing his head without listening to anything. But his good eye narrowed and he glanced towards Snape, suddenly suspicious again, "How did you know of this?

"I was a Death Eater," the dark-haired man drawled, rolling his eyes, "It was my occupation to sneak and steal research notes straight from the Headmaster's desk."

"Brilliant," Remus laughed, cupping his hand over his eyes, "I always knew she was smart, but... even _this_ exceeds my expectations."

"Why are you telling us this?" McGonagall asked tiredly, still sitting on the ground with her legs tucked under her. Snape sneered down at her, but it was all in exhausted humor, "I'm a Slytherin, McGonagall. There's obviously something in it for me."

No one asked him. No one wanted to know anymore.

Remus staggered over to the door, resting on it for a bit to regain himself before he opened it and led himself out, "I'm going to bed," he announced and left.

McGonagall stood to follow his example and turned around to face Moody, "I believe there is no need to guard Severus anymore. He won't be going anywhere without L... and L isn't about to leave," she raised an eyebrow and turned her eyes to Snape who did his best to ignore her.

"... might I be able to see L tomorrow?" the Potions Master asked, hesitant and embarrassed.

It only took a second of thought, and McGonagall nodded. She made way over to the door and exited the room, not sure if she would have a peaceful sleep anymore.

* * *

The taste of blood was bitter and coppery... smelling of American pennies and even unfinished buildings.

Harry licked his lips and shuddered when he wiped at the blood on the corner of his mouth.

It came from the open wound on his thumb as he bit through the skin and broke it. But this sort of throbbing pain took his mind off his exhaustion for a moment... and it took his mind off his aggravation... his anger.

"_L?"_ The Watari called out hesitantly.

"I have received the list of the deceased."

"_... have you found a connection?_"

Harry paused and licked again at the blood, "I have."

Name after name after name of muggleborns and squibs. Harry recognized half of them... and then another that stuck out on its own was one Neville Longbottom.

_"Will you be requiring police help?_"

"No," Harry confirmed, running his other hand through his hair and brushing against the soft scar. This damned scar started it all, "This is a dangerous case... almost out-worldly. I have gathered my own squad. Please stay out of this."

He heard Watari shuffling on the other line, "_L..._"

"Please... trust me. I shall end these killings," he promised, not just his caretaker... but Snape, McGonagall, Remus, the world... and himself, "Is there anything else?"

"_That is all._"

"Very well. Please remind Nia and Matt they are still expected to complete their assignment by Saturday. I expect evidence and correct grammar in their report. And if something else should come up, please contact me immediately."

"_All right. Goodnight L."_

"Goodnight."

And they disconnected.

Picking himself up from his hunched state on the ground, Harry pads over to the large bed and crawls under the covers. The too-clean and sterile smell comforts him and the blood that was still spilling from his thumb marked the white sheets like rose petals.

Roses he received the same day Ginny died. Roses he gave that day of Hermione's funeral. And roses propped up in a crystal vase in that same room he and Voldemort held their final duel.

And he had lost.

Harry crawled into bed that night for a sense of his old life... of magic and miracles.

He crawled into his bed, remembered, and slept.

-be continued-

Ah... this chapter wasn't supposed to take this long... It was supposed to be a simple chapter just moving them up a step. But I believe it's going at a nice pace.  
More will be explained about Lily's gift in the next chapter... you just have to wait until then.


	6. Chapter 5

Next week is Spring Break! I'll be working hard then too!

**Chapter 5**

Harry knew enough that a high cholesterol could lead to an early death. He also knew that frequent lack of sleep resulted in the same end.

But those were just some of those few pleasures he got from life...

However, being shocked out of his wit was not a fun way to wake up in the morning and he was sure that in the manner his heart just stopped the moment he saw Snape's peacefully napping face next to his just docked another 10 years from his life.

And the impact his head had against the floor when he frantically scrambled away from the body destroyed millions of needed braincells, probably.

The blunt noise of a hard skull meeting the ground and shuffling of the mattress under him awoke Snape and he was greeted with the sight of Harry's feet just dangling whilst the rest of the detective's body was sprawled on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked groggily, having just woken up. The toes in front of him twitched and wiggled experimentally and Harry answered calmly, "I was merely shocked," though he did not specify_ why_, Snape had a good idea, "Are you alright?"

Harry grunted and pulled himself back onto the bed, scratching the back of his head with a sort of detached expression. Snape knew this was Harry's "morning face."

"Hm, yes. I'm feeling fine," Harry answered and got himself comfortable, tucking himself into ball and resting his chin on his knees. His hands were placed on either side of him and balanced his body, although after months of sitting this way, one would think Harry achieved some sort of equilibrium that most humans wouldn't have.

Snape searched Harry face for signs of pain or discomfort. Nothing was out of place; the black circles, the "dead-fish" eyes, and the untameable hair that rested quite stiffly against his forehead giving an even darker shadow over Harry's unnaturally pale face... they were all the same.

Yet... "I'm sorry," Snape still felt a horrible churning in his stomach.

Harry looked at Snape and cocked his head to the side, "Are you? For what?"

"... for putting you in danger."

They were in so much danger yesterday that it wasn't only Harry's life at stake... but all the children in the orphanage as well. Snape hated brats... but those orphans were all intelligent and knew better than to disturb him. They would become a great help to their generation's society... he knew it.

"Did you?"

Snape glared at Harry, hating his calm expression and emotionless eyes, "What's wrong with you?" he demanded heatedly.

Harry shuffled closer to the other man, unblinking when Snape edged backwards, "The simple fact that you believe you are the cause of everything is skeptical to me. You've never thought of yourself so unique before."

"That's because you were the unique one between the two of us!"

"It's not just us anymore."

Snape's lips trembled for a quick second before he pursed them tightly together and he looked down at his hands, "...L..." he started slowly and then looked up to meet the other's equally black eyes again, "L, listen to me. I'm not... a very innocent figure here."

"... innocent?"

"They want me _dead_."

Harry allowed himself to smirk slightly and he nodded, "Yes, I figured it must be something similar. Recalling your state of health you certainly _did_ resemble a criminal on the run."

Snape made a face, "Funny whelp," he spat back without any true venom.

"... will you return back to the Wammy House with me, Shen?"

Without hesitation, the older man nodded, "Once this is all cleared up, we'll go home."

Harry smiled fondly and wrapped the white blanket around his shoulder, feeling tired and wanting a few more minutes of sleep.

But Snape had a different plan for him as he reached forward and shook him back to alertness, "L... listen," he prodded constantly, "L... I'm a wizard," he needed to tell the detective everything. Even if it wasn't long before he figured everything out like he did every other time. This way there was less negative emotions on both their parts.

"I think it was easy to figure that out from the way you made us suddenly appear to this lovely house," Harry grumbled and shouldered the hand away. He had just suffered under the Crutiatus a couple of hours ago and did not get the sleep that he needed for him to fully function.

"... are you... fine with that?"

Harry opened his eyes slightly and sighed. If it was a self-conscious problem that Snape was having... he was coming to the wrong person, "Perfectly."

A low and rare chuckle came from Snape and he shook his head, "You always seem to be able to shock me L."

"Did you expect me to disown you?"

"Diso—... no. I simply thought you would argue."

Harry snorted and figured he wouldn't be getting any sleep anytime soon, "I would. Had I not been myself," had he not been Harry Potter, boy who lived, he would never have believed Snape, "How did you come here?"

"Lupin dropped me off here," Snape admitted, shrugging with a disdain that only he could manage, "He's standing outside and listening in just as we speak."

"And the reason I found you in my bed?"

Snape didn't miss a beat, but he rolled his eyes in exasperation before he answered, "Simply because I did not get a wink of sleep and you had a perfectly comfortable bed. ... speaking of, you were all rolled up into a ball even as you were laying down," he sneered in mocking humour.

"The pains of a bad habit," Harry shrugged, then turned serious as he noted on the deep bags under Snape's eyes, "And are _you_ alright?"

"Exhausted," the wizard admitted, "They haven't tortured me," he drawled after noting Harry's narrow and suspicious eyes, "horribly, I mean."

Harry scoffed and his lips twitched, "I see you're fine."

"And you seem more rested than you are in a normal day. You eyes aren't so sunken... although they are a tad bit red."

"Hmph," Harry looked down at his toes and mumbled, "The case..."

"Have you solved it?"

"No. But I know the cause—the killer behind it. It hardly involves the police."

A moment of cold silence before Snape leaned forward and squinted at the detective, "_What_?"

Harry cleared his throat and met the man straight on, "The police won't be a help with this."

He prepared himself for the scolding at would soon come, and as he had figured, Snape's voice dropped a few notches as he spoke, "Are you saying you'll do this on your own?"

"Correct."

"... who are you up against? A murderer? A rapist? A thief, perhaps?"

"A murderer. He's already been through at least 20 victims that were recorded by the officials. I am certain there are more."

Snape's pallid cheeks had a red flush to them and he hissed between his teeth, a bright fire in his dark eyes, "_Dammit _L, you can't do this alone."

"Perhaps," Harry shrugged impassively, "But I am not reckless Shen. If I require help, I will ask for such."

"But you are considerably immature and absolutely despise losing. You'll only ask for help once your life is in danger. I know what kind of person you are L. I know you like facing your opponent head-on. This is not safe."

"Despite popular belief," Harry countered smoothly and without the snap that Snape held in his tone, "I enjoy living."

The potions master scrambled out of bed in angry haste and paced the room to calm himself down. He hated it when Harry was being unreasonable like this, "Idiotic, selfish arsehole," he cursed.

"Unnecessary insults are not appreciated, Shen."

Snape made a face, "You swear you'll get help once it gets out of hand?"

"Yes."

Pausing in his step, the man looked to the other that was curled up on top of the mattress with soft eyes, "You know that I'll help you through anything."

Harry chuckled under his breath, a raspy and unused sort of laughter, "You're disgustingly sweet at times Shen. I don't like that."

"Although you're a sugar fanatic," Snape bluntly added, "Poppy, the nurse, noted you were severely underweight with a high cholesterol. A dangerous combination."

"... I did stop playing tennis regularly..." he lifted his hand back to his mouth and placed his lips around his thumb—

—Snape thrust his arm out and snatched Harry's arm, bringing that hand to his eye-level, "You...! L, you...!" he stammered.

"Ah... apologies. I didn't realize I had bitten through it so throughly."

The skin of his thumb was red and raw, crusted with blood and the nail was soft and fleshy. Harry noted the gentle throbbing and had a desire to just bite down on his thumb to make it stop.

"Dammit," Snape cursed and released Harry's hand, "You always do this... the blood's crusted near your mouth as well."

Harry poked a tongue out experimentally and tasted the dry and copper stain. Snape tapped his on the head with his fist, "Don't lick it you idiot!," he scowled and shook his head, "You've reduced me to a mother. I'm just like Molly Weasley now."

"Apologies once again," though Harry sounded anything _but_ apologetic, "I tend to overlook my own health."

"... for a person with an IQ over 200, you seem to seem to have such childlike habits..."

"Is it ironic?" he asked without expecting an answer although he received a sharp and pointed glare from Snape, "... Have you left Remus and McGonagall with something to do?"

"Yes," Snape answered with a tired sigh and a hand through his hair, "the will of a school's headmaster with vital information against death and my own innocence. The school in question is currently filled to the brim by evil wizards."

"... your... innocence?"

"If you wish to call it that."

Harry paused and searched Snape's blank eyes for something deeper, "You have killed," he stated easily.

Snape twitched, "I—yes. I killed that school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

This... this is what Harry needed. A reason. He needed to convince himself that Snape—that Shen did not kill Albus Dumbledore for Voldemort's aims. That he did not... "Why?"

Snape's head lifted to the ceiling, "... it was an order."

A cold fear ran through Harry, "... from a second party?"

"No. From Dumbledore."

For the first time in a long while... Harry's mind was empty. He had no emotion flowing through him, no thoughts, no witty remark. Harry was disturbingly void of everything that should've been flooding his entire system from that single comment. But then his mouth opened and words, involutary as he did not trigger them, spilled, "Dumbledore told you to kill him?" then he saw the light and his eyes snapped back to Snape's peaceful form, "But why? What did he hope to—" he stopped himself before he could get too high on his frazzled feelings and began anew, "You allied yourself with that second party. The band of dark—no... evil wizards."

"Yes."

Harry's lips trembled and he pressed his knuckle to it, "It was to protect you when they learned that you've betrayed them," his throat was beginning to tighten up, and his mind began to realize, "... in order to make it look like you betrayed Dumbledore instead... in killing him..."

Snape was silent.

"But why?" Harry continued, his eyes just searching the room without a true aim, "Why did it have to be himself? Couldn't he have ordered you to simply destroy another's life?"

"Of course," Snape sneered sarcastically, "I wanted to end the life of one impudent whelp. Especially when he decided it would be intelligent to run after me and throw mundane curses with no thought at all. But... Dumbledore has a strong moral... and he felt he was soon to die. He was old... too old... and weary."

"... he gave up?" Harry whispered disbelievingly.

"Never!" Snape whirled around and pinned the detective with a glare, "He would never—! ... he simply felt if would motivate Potter... the boy who lived. His parents were killed by our world's dictator."

Harry snorted humorlessly, "A dictator..."

"Indeed. But as the Dark Lord killed Potter's parents, he was unable to kill the boy. So in the end, the idiot brat was known as the boy who lived to the wizarding world. Though..." Snape let out a harsh laughter, "that whelp ran away as soon as he was defeated by the Dark Lord."

Ran away... Harry winced inwardly and nibbled on the skin of his forefinger as if in an attempt to chew away his guilt, "Tell me more Shen."

"As you wish. I said before, the Dark Lord was unable to kill an infant of only 15 months. The boy was hailed as a savior, for something he was not even responsible for."

Confusion seeped into Harry like water on a sponge, "... you are saying that another had killed this Dark Lord then?"

"Yes... another 'killed' him," Snape frowned and stepped forward to sit back down on the bed, "His mother, in fact."

The temperature of the room dropped drastically and Harry shivered, lips trembling as he tried to get the words out, "H-his... mother had...—"

"I trust you enough to tell you this L," Snape cut in irritably. He turned to the door suspiciously but shrugged it off, not caring if Remus listened or not, "This is top secret information that currently I, three other people in this house, and a piece of parchment know of."

Harry did not waver, he stared pointedly at the older man who was beginning to sweat. Harry didn't know _why... _the room was too cold.

"... there's a curse in this world. The killing curse: _Avada Kedavra_. There's no known defense against it—known to the public that is," he smirked, but it lacked the snark that could usually be found in his sneers, "Potter's mother, Lily Evans created the first shield against Light Magic."

"... Light...?"

"Yes. The _Avada Kedavra_ was never extensively studied, so without knowing the world marked the killing curse as Dark Magic, thus it because an unforgivable. However... Evans, with her never-ending need of knowledge, studied death," then he turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

The detective gnawed on his knuckle, "Death..." he breathed, "is not the end. It's rebirth."

"Precisely."

Harry bristled and pulled his finger from his mouth to grind his teeth together, "But that's so religious! Do you wizards even believe in God? Or Karma? For heaven's sake that's ludicrous! It doesn't make sense—it doesn't—..." he gripped the edge of the mattress tightly and breathed, allowing his heart and mind to calm. He almost couldn't take this. He couldn't take the lie he had been living. _What Boy-Who-Lived?!_ He didn't deserve that name or the job! He didn't _have_ to be the world's scapegoat! He was only 18... they couldn't expect a 18-year old failure to stand up against the darkest wizard in the world. _How could they...?_

An anger bubbled within him, and he glared at the wall. _How dare they..._

"Of course we believe," Snape replied coolly, a complete contrast to Harry's emotions, "We believe in higher entities that gave us all a purpose in life. Reincarnation, Karma, Sins... it's just a part of it. We decide what we believe. It is not drilled into us by birth, but we learn as we grow and we understand."

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry bit back the spite.

Snape just looked down at the top of his head, "Doesn't it?" he drawled in reply and turned back to look at the bare ceiling, "So... Lily Evans experimented. There are so many defenses and shields against Dark Magic, yet none against Light. ... in the end, Evans created one herself, and saved her bloody, stuck-up, big-headed, brat of a son."

Even through his angry haze, that was now neatly tucked in the back of his mind, Harry felt an immense pride that washed over his fire of fury like a steady rain, "... brilliant..." he fell back from his crouched position and onto his bottom, no longer having the energy to keep him on his toes.

From the side, the creaking of the door alerted them and Snape fluidly got up to his feet. Remus peeked inside and nodded his greeting to Harry then looked at Snape, "Severus, I have to take you back now."

Snape shrugged, "Very well," but paused and turned, "L," was all he said in farewell and left for the door.

"Shen," Harry whispered back, his mind still too fixed on their talk. The lies... the pride... and truth of the fact that there _was_ a spell that could stop Voldemort.

What was he going to do now...?

* * *

"I imagine you heard everything," Snape commented casually and smirked when Remus shrugged, "Just a bit."

The potions master turned towards the other with a bland expression, "You werewolves... always sticking your nose where it doesn't belongs."

"Of course Snape," Remus replied sarcastically, but his face was void of any teasing emotions. Snape knew why.

Their relationship was teetering. Not that they had a very good one to begin with, but it was civil. But there were too many unhealed scars for them too try anymore. There was no point in it.

Snape paused outside the door to his makeshift room and turned to face Remus who was staring blankly at him, "Good day to you, Lupin."

Remus grunted, "I can't say I wish the same," he ran a hand through his hair. "Look... I'll tell you this now. You and L won't be leaving for a while."

"As long as we _do_ leave, it doesn't matter."

"But that's the thing. A thing that just might stop L from returning..." he bit his lip, taking in Snape's confused face and he wondered how much more he could say without breaking his promise to Harry.

How much more he could say without making Snape hate Harry. And Harry hate him

"What the hell are you talking about, Lupin?" Snape demanded harshly. He edged towards the gray-haired man and bit his lip, "Something that might stop L from returning? He's a muggle, you can't stop a muggle from returning to the muggle world! You can simply _obliviate_ his memories of the wizarding world if you're so scared that he'll say something unnecessary! But no matter how human he is, L would never do such a thing."

Remus twitched, "You speak like you know him so well," he spat and sneered, "but you don't understand. I know of a secret he has and doesn't want you to find out."

Snape's face turned a shade of bright red and he bared his teeth like a feral animal on the verge of attacking. But he turned around and wrenched open the door to his room, "Go away, Lupin! This has absolutely nothing to do with you! I am positively sick of the wizarding world's badgering—I can almost sympathize with Potter!!" and he slammed the door in the werewolf's face, leaving Remus with a regretful shame at his outburst.

There was a loud noise from inside the room and a string of curses that followed. Remus closed his eyes and walked away.

Without a place to go, Remus made way for Harry's room and slowly peeked inside, "Ha—L?" he called.

"Ah, come in Remus," Harry invited from his place on the ground, poking at a slice of chocolate cake that laid half-eaten on a clean plate.

Remus did as he was told, closing the door behind him along the way and he eyed the chocolate pastry suspiciously, "... where did you get that?"

Harry smiled softly, "Kreacher _is_ a House Elf, isn't he? I still own him with this house. So with the direct order of 'Freshly baked chocolate cake with equally fresh ingredients...' he did it very obediently."

But more than that, the thing that shocked Remus was the fact that Harry had found the missing House Elf in the span of 5 minutes without even leaving his room, "You found Kreacher?"

"No, no... he simply came to me with a snap of my fingers."

"So you knew he would come?"

Harry then ducked his head and hunched his back even more, digging his fork into the cake, "Not at all. A simple experiment. I was alone in the room and not making a fool of myself simply snapping randomly."

It didn't take long for Remus to burst out laughing, his earlier tension from before washed away at the very image of Harry snapping his fingers in an empty room, red-faced, "Forever a Gryffindor," he chuckled. Harry did not reply.

Remus's chuckles died away quickly and he sighed, "... How has Snape treated you in those few months he's known you as L?"

"Well enough, considering who he is."

"And how about you? How did you treat Snape even though he killed Dumbledore?"

Harry rocked back and forth on the heel of his foot, thinking, "... I was casual... choosing to ignore him and locking him up in a room and only entering when Sarah went to check up on him. It's natural I believe, no matter how smart I am... I am only human. I hated him," he gave the werewolf a crooked smile, "But he began asking for books. I taught him everything I knew about chemistry because I knew he'd enjoy it. The math, the logic, the very science of creating and destroying. He took it all in so effortlessly and we held discussions and arguments on every little thing. I realized it was the best fun I had in long time... The longest time..." he trailed off and the temporary light that showed off the smallest bit of green under the dark contacts disappeared, "... But I... I sometimes can't help but forget what he did... but now it doesn't matter."

Remus gulped, "Why?"

"Because..." Harry's eyes widened and the corners of his lips twitched, "Because he's innocent," he abruptly threw down his fork and picked himself up from the ground, surprising the other man, "I'll do anything to prove it," he muttered and grabbed his laptop from the top of his trunk, "I'll do anything to free him."

This was a better time than anything, Remus decided and spoke, "... then you can help us," he started, hoping to catch Harry's attention but not anger him, "We're planning a last raid on Hogwarts. It's all or nothing."

The detective did not reply for a long while, pressing a button of his muggle-device and waiting for it to finish loading, "... how many on each side?" he asked.

"Several hundreds of Death Eaters, although most of them are still in-training and _should_ be in school. And there are 70 active Order members. France is offering a treaty. Scrimegour's still the minister, so it's up to him... but from what I hear, he's thinking of taking it."

"And is it kill or simply stopping advances?"

Remus hesitated. The light from the laptop screen casted shadows on Harry's face. Exhaustion, hesitation, and some other deep emotion were sketched on every contour and curve.

"... Kill. We're planning to do this on a full moon. I was able to bring a handful of werewolves to our side with a promise of Wolf's Bane."

"And other magical creatures?"

"None."

Harry blinked and looked at Remus, "Then if you don't mind... I wish to talk to the centaurs..."

Remus cringed and shook his head, "Don't do it. Charlie tried. He was near trampled by the lot, and we're talking about Forbidden Forest tribes. If we were to approach any other's, you won't just get away with a broken arm or leg like he did."

But the detective didn't care for facts, and he proceeded to swiftly type in favor of arguing with the other, "No. Let me do it."

"Aren't you busy?" Remus tried feebly to dissuade Harry, but the younger man did not fall for it, "The case is no problem... it's to do with Voldemort."

"The muggles know?"

Harry smirked and scrolled down the mission statement, "A series of mysterious deaths. A good half of them are squibs and muggleborns. I saw Neville on the list."

Remus snorted and shook his head, "Ridiculous... what the hell is You-Know-Who thinking involving the muggles like this."

"We need to create a sort of safe house for them. At this rate, the magic in our blood will fade and wizards won't be anything but a legend."

"I'll talk to Tonks about it," Remus agreed, "She's in charge of Muggle World Surveillance due to the fact she's a metamorphmagus."

"Hmm... would you like some chocolate cake?"

"Harry if that's your attempt in trying to get me off topic, it was awful," he smiled fondly and shook his head, "But yes, I'd love some chocolate cake."

Harry didn't even bother to look away from his laptop as he snapped his fingers and Kreacher popped into the room with a loud crack, "Master is wanting something to bother poor Kreacher?" the House Elf asked with a nasal voice and sniffling noises.

The dark-haired man was unfazed, "Yes. Another cake for my companion please. With the same freshness, Kreacher."

The House Elf bowed deeply, casting a look of deep contempt for the secret wizard, "Kreacher is getting good cake from Mistress's kitchen for dirty werewolf," he repeated and popped out of the room, only to have a plate holding a moist slice of cake pop into the room in his stead.

"How pitiful," Harry murmured around his finger.

Remus picked up the plate the drifted midair and poked at it tentatively with his fork, "He looks horrible..." he commented lamely.

The House Elf, although gnarled and battered from the beginning, was now resembling a withered, old tree that has lost all his leaves and branches, stranded out in a deserted wasteland was slowly dying away...

"He's reaching an old age," Harry decided, "How long do House Elves live?"

"I suppose a century at most. But if they're abused and mistreated, they'll go earlier."

Harry paused in his typing and looked at the wall across from him, "Interesting... so it's his time."

Remus raised an eyebrow and frowned, "You can't determine that."

"You're right," Harry agreed and laughed dryly, "I can't. He's a magical creature—tell me something Remus," he started while reaching up and slowly pulling the contacts from his eyes. They needed to be replaced, "Why am I a genius muggle... yet an average wizard?"

It's been bothering him since forever. Seeing how easily he understood everything that was explained to him about math, English, science, and history... the languages were so easily learned and rules so simple to abide by.

It was as if he was _meant_ to be a muggle, and he never belonged in this world in the first place.

The wizarding world.

"It's to do with Lily," Remus explained and held back his gasp at seeing those vibrant green eyes. It filled him with such a suffocating emotion at seeing the life return to Harry's face from just bringing back his eyes. Bringing back that small bit of Harry that he remembered.

"My mother?" Harry repeated, "What did my mother do this time?"

Remus blinked and got a bit defensive at his tone and wording, "She did nothing, but she had a special... dormant gene within her body that awakened the moment she entered Hogwarts. The popular name for it is The Prodigy Line. No one knows how it was started... but it's probably a trait found within Ravenclaw heirs."

"Ravenclaw heirs?" Harry repeated slowly, "And the chances of me being an heir of such a founder...?"

"I don't know," the werewolf answered truthfully, "Squibs get lost in the line, so it might be that Lily got the gene and her magic from some distant, distant relative. So there is an almost nonexistent chance of you being an heir to Ravenclaw."

"But... this Prodigy Line... Is it only activated by magic? If so, then it makes no sense."

Remus grinned and his amber eyes lit up, "That's just it Harry. You must've been some special case. There has been no case record of someone from the Prodigy Line that is a _muggle_ genius. It's unheard of!"

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Most possibly the fact that no one else would've bothered. However, for the first eleven years of my life, I've lived a muggle. I now know of the existence of magic and such... why did it not happen the moment I had a contact of magic, or even with the muggle world?"

"I don't know..." Remus looked down at his shoes with a frustrated look, "We can only speculate..."

Harry frowned deeply and looked back at his computer, the Times New Roman fonted words on the screen seeming to mock him, "... had I been at the level with my magic as I am with my logic and reasoning... I would've easily defeated Voldemort..."

Remus burst out in sarcastic and cynical laughter, "Isn't the world ironic?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "Disgustingly so. Where's McGonagall?"

"At the Weasley's."

The detective startled and whipped around to stare at Remus, green eyes large and round, "The Weasley's? But The Burrow was burned down—"

"Ah, yes. I'll rephrase that. Minerva is at The Trench."

A cold wind blew into the room and Harry shivered, "... my old apartment...?"

It was just a joke at first. Naming it The Trench was nothing but a bad joke on Seamus's part. But as they got more involved in the war, it was no longer a joke.

His apartment was their fortification. But it turned out to be a Maginot Line seeing how easily Voldemort blasted his way through and had them running with their tail between their legs.

In order to make it a true trench, Bill put it under a Fidelius Charm choosing Ron as the Secret Keeper on Harry's order.

"The very same one."

To think it was still standing.

"And my belongings?"

Remus paused and licked his dry lips, untouched chocolate cake still in his hand, "Ronald... he couldn't take it anymore and moved them all to your room. He snarls at anyone who tries to even talk about it."

Harry frowned and thought back to his red-head friend, "He's not doing well then," he said slowly. He knew it would affect Ron. He knew it would be like a gunshot to the heart in the way Ginny died, Hermione killed, and Harry disappeared.

It would break anyone.

But even still, Harry couldn't return. He had such a life now... he didn't _want_ to return.

"... you should come back Harry. And just stay with us."

"I should. But I won't, and I can't. I'm needed in the muggle world—"

Remus fisted his unoccupied hand and bared pointed teeth, "You're needed here too!"

He visibly trembled for a second, but Harry immediately controlled it and swept around to face Remus, back straight for the first time in over six months and his abrupt movement revealed the scar hidden by a curtain of dark, unruly hair. He was the striking image of the former Harry Potter, venomous green eyes and all, "And after I defeat Voldemort?! Then what?!"

Remus took a step forward, although he was slightly terrified and awed at the image the former commander of light made, "Then _everything_!! You'll go back to The Trench and have five hundred little genius brats with a lovely girl and live happily ever after!!"

Harry breathed deeply to calm himself and slowly shrunk back into his crouched figure, "... you're losing your head Remus. And I won't have a happily ever after."

Somehow... he knew fate would never allow it.

Remus blinked back tears and snarled angrily before leaving the room in a furious rush, forgetting he still held chocolate cake in his hand.

Harry leaned his forehead against the keys of his laptop, ignoring the notebook's annoyed _beep_ at having five different keys pressed at once.

This wasn't supposed to happen. But it was fine.

Familiar friendship was unnecessary between two strangers afterall.

-be continued-

Mm... if there are some problems understanding this chapter... please do review me questions. I'd be happy to answer them.


	7. Chapter 6

Long time no see.

**Chapter 6**

"Destroy my wand."

A day had passed since their "imprisonment" in Grimmauld Place. Harry was well taken care of by a fussy Madame Pomfrey who had no trouble smacking his hand if it even began to inch towards the coffee pots or the sugar cabinet.

During the lonely hours when Snape was locked up in his room and Harry had no company except for the four other occupants of the house, Harry often searched for either Remus or McGonagall (as Moody wasn't the greatest conversation companion and Madame Pomfrey tended to prod him with every other word she spoke) in hopes of eating a light snack together or simply talking about the Wizard Government in comparison to the Muggle one.

It was nearing lunch time when Harry found a rather red apple sitting near McGonagall and decided to have it for himself, not without asking of course.

Then he settled down in a comfortably cushioned seat across from the woman and abruptly requested:

"Destroy my wand."

McGonagall's hand froze and she slowly lowered her book, "..._what_?" she hissed, so sure she had misheard him.

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pressing against his knees, "Please destroy my wand, Professor."

"... Potter... do you understand what babble is spilling from your mouth right now?"

Harry did not answer her, but instead, very patiently, said, "Please destroy my wand."

McGonagall breathed out, looking up to the ceiling and muttering lowly under her breath. She then placed her book aside and smiled kindly at the young detective, although the strain in the smile was obvious, "You're tired Potter. I see the circles around your eyes—"

"L," Harry pointedly corrected.

Exasperated, McGonagall shook her head and absently flicked her wrist dismissively, "Potter, Harry, L—either way..."

"I'm afraid," Harry interjected quickly, sensing McGonagall's thoughtless rejection and digging through his mind for a way to make the witch see his way of things, "I don't have the time for pleasantries."

"None of us do Mr. Po—...L."

Harry nodded in understanding, but pursed his lips and bowed his head slightly, "... please destroy my wand."

The elder woman leaned back into her chair, her resolve weakening with each request the young man made. Thus, she let out a heavy sigh and placed her hand over her cheek and looked at the unruly black hair sullenly, "... stubborn," she called and Harry raised his head to meet her eyes, "You do realize that without your wand you will, virtually, be unable to cast magic? Defensive or otherwise?"

Harry smiled softly and bobbed his head in a small nod, "Hopefully there will be no need for it... only terrible things occur when I hold a wand."

_Terrible... but great_.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, "... I won't destroy it Po—L... but I will keep it safe."

Slightly irritated that his request was turned down and compromised, Harry made a face and a noise, but in the end still conceded and agreed, "Very well," he muttered, before perking up considerably and leaning over to balance on his toes, "Oh, and another request."

"Yes?"

"I will take a temporary leave tomorrow. I want to have a packed lunch."

A beat.

McGonagall seemed to take this in slowly and she blinked rapidly as she repeated, "Leave? Packed lunch?" then gathered her wits enough to hiss out a, "_Excuse me_?"

"One question at a time," Harry dully answered with a small smirk on his face, "but thankfully I have an excellent memory. Yes, I will leave; yes, I require a packed lunch; but no, I cannot excuse you just yet—"

"Don't you play around with me, Potter!" McGonagall snarled, and Harry discreetly pulled back as he saw the hissing feline in the woman.

Dropping his former smirk for a sullen face, Harry slowly, but sternly, said, "I am not playing around Professor. I am always professional and very serious."

And McGonagall slumped as if her anger rushed out of her like air from a balloon, leaving the her calm and relaxed, "L," she sighed, "just what do you want? Say so clearly or I will deny your request."

Harry frowned and chewed on his thumb thoughtfully, "Hn... I want to see our..." he paused for effect, "dubious allies."

Confused at his obscure wording, McGonagall mirrored Harry's frown and blinked rapidly in thought, "Dubious...?" then it flashed into her mind like a lightning bolt, shocking her entire senses and stiffening the woman's body as her lips pulled into a thin line, "Do you mean the centaurs?"

Harry smiled subtlety. McGonagall is an intelligent woman, "Yes."

And without hesitation, McGonagall answered, "No."

"Hn," obviously troubled by this immediate rejection, Harry moved onto another finger and restlessly nibbled on its peeled skin, "The centaurs are warriors," he started, "Star-struck and likes to babble inanely..., but warriors nonetheless. They will be useful in the war."

"But they want nothing to do with the war!" McGonagall argued heatedly and Harry answered that heat with his own, "And neither do I, but, alas, here I am now!"

Struck speechless by the indirect accusation and the fiery glare of cold, dark eyes, McGonagall found herself unable to stop Harry as he stood and stared down at her impassively, "I will leave tomorrow. Do not stop me."

No... McGonagall would not have the will to.

"This is a mistake, Potter."

"... no. I've made one mistake too many. This must not be a mistake. This must be the last fight."

"And it will be. Whether we win... or we lose," and a small, hollow smile spread over her white lips, "We have no more second chances. Remember that Potter..." and with quick, practiced movements, McGonagall exited the room with the soft 'thunk' of the door following her.

Harry stood there, between the two seats and near his half-eaten apple, warmed by the fire's blazing heat. With a finger he absently traced the scar that lie hidden beneathe his hair, "... ... my name is L, Professor."

And he fell back into the seat, hearing the ancient springs groan under his weight. With a hand he covered his heavy eyes, staring intently into the darkness and taking in the comforts of the fireplace warmth against his naked feet.

With this, Harry fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

"Here's your 'packed lunch.'" 

Harry smiled wryly and politely took it from Remus's outstretched hands, "Thank you." _Although I was just joking..._ "Where is Shen?"

Remus waved a hand, tiredly leaning against the kitchen counter and yawning loudly, "Snape's asleep," then he smirked, "Don't worry, we won't fatally wound him while you're out or anything."

"Unamusing."

Remus snickered, but it died as quickly as it came and the exhaustion came back, "Do you need me to apparate you there?"

Harry shook his head, "No need. McGonagall made me a portkey."

"Where is it?"

"Over there," and he pointed at an unassuming, bronze house key lying near him on the dinner table.

Remus hummed thoughtfully, "Why don't you go and hold onto it? It won't be good if it left without you."

Harry nodded wordlessly in agreement and reached over to grab the key between his forefinger and thumb, but as soon as he grasped the key, he released it, dropping it to the floor and doubling over and pushing at his temples.

"Harry!"

And green eyes behind soulless black flashed.

_Harry? Yes. He was Harry Potter! Boy-who-lived—_

_only to be defeated by Voldemort—_

_Harry Potter! A Gryffindor—_

_only an escape from Slytherin—_

_Harry Potter! A hero—_

_masked by lies and pains and so much _**regret**—

_Harry Potter! The one from the Prophecy—_

_and he will die because of it._

A gentle, warm hand was resting on his shoulders, firmly shaking him and calling out something over and over again:

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

_Harry?_

"... L..."

Remus blinked and pulled his hand back in surprise, "... Harry?"

And Harry twitched, pulling himself back up and looking up at the anxious, tired face of Remus, "I am L."

_I not will die as Harry Potter._

Remus gulped. Being a werewolf, his animal instincts surely must have alerted him of Harry's threat. Then the man gasped and jumped back with a outstretched finger, "L! The Portkey!"

Without a second thought, Harry snatched the Portkey and groaned as a warmth probed at his stomach and the back of his mind. A scorching, untouchable sort of heat... akin to the burning of magic coursing through his veins as sure as blood—

_MAGIC!_

And with the sharp pull at his navel, Harry recognized the presence taking rightly residence in his mind, begging and hurting for his attention...

It was his magic.

And Harry smiled serenely, raising a hand and placing it over his feverish scar.

It was over.

And the presence disappeared.

He would not accept a wizard's life... not one of lies and unjustified duties.

"So I will return after this is over. I will be L for life."

L for Life, Light, Love, Lily.

* * *

"Is this... the forbidden forest?" 

The unpleasant screech of an unknown bird answered him, but Harry paid no mind to it. The forest looked beautiful in the early morning with the shy sunlight peeking through the leaves of the dense trees. The soft moss covering the forest floor was easy to walk upon and the few fauna that sprouted from his gaps flourished and glowed vibrantly with exotic colors

Harry didn't go out very often anymore; not only was he busy with his cases, but he was also had the greatest fear of being recognized by someone of magic...

So this sudden rush of beauty in nature calmed his heart and mind, draining away all the aches and heaviness from his pale body; a task that even sweets could not accomplish.

However, this peace was short lived.

Harry fought down a smirk that threatened to grace his lips at the sharp jolt that ran through his nerves when a sharper edge of steel dug into his skin and a soft, breathy voice sounded behind him, "Be you friend... or foe?"

"... ... ... ... neither."

The sharpness pierces.

"However I seek friendship," Harry rushed, not moving nor speaking afterwards, he only listened to the deep breathing of the figure behind him.

The sound of horse hooves clapping at the ground echoed through the small clearing and Harry felt a body press against his arm and heavy locks of brown hair swipe at his cheek. Due to the closeness of their bodies, Harry was able to peek out at the corner of his eyes and see the torso of a strong, well-built human male, and the roan and powerful body of a horse. A centaur, Harry looked away, was this a God-given chance, or something much worse?

The centaur kicked at the ground and pulled back, finished with his study of the awkward human, "We do not care for friendship with humans," the voice changed as its breathy quality disappeared and was replaced with coldness, but the piercing pain at Harry's neck was removed, "A centaur-wizard joining is only going to end in tragedy, says the stars."

Harry stood silently.

Without any thought of the other, the centaur continued, "I apologize for the injury given to that other wizard man, but he was proving to be a threat."

"I don't believe," Harry started cautiously, turning around to face the centaur at the same time, "Charlie Weasley was trying to harm anyone."

The centaur narrowed his eyes and lifted dust and moss with his menacing kicks and claps. He made a gruff neigh that resembled the growling of a furious lion more so than a horse, "We will decide that, human. Now, leave, before it's too late."

"... too late? Too late to leave? ... are you... talking about this forest?" _Or... is he...?_

The roan centaur raised his head and stretched his neck, looking up at the blue sky with a pensive look, "... the stars..."

"..."

"... they will tell you, someday."

Harry sighed, "We need your help."

And the centaur shook his head, backing away from the man, "War only destroys, kills, and erases. It is meaningless to us. We centaurs will take no part in it."

_... I can't argue with that logic._ Harry smiled softly, but then it fell into a tight-lipped frown as he recognized that logic to be the truth of the matter, "Yes... it eradicates everything. But what would you do if I told you... the Death Eaters are planning to destroy this forest?"

The centaur bristled, his tail flicking and muscles taunt, "You lie," he hissed, powerful jaws clenching together and grinding teeth, "They cannot destroy this forest."

"And that is where you come up short and become a hypocrite."

The centaur jumped, hazel eyes clashing against limitless black, "_What_?"

"Centaurs—," Harry started, slowly, taking a step forward and drawing himself up straighter. What mattered now was appearance. Who stood before the other, not in the ladder of social status... but in the power of will, "... no... the _inhabitants_ of the Forbidden Forest have the main argument of 'Humans do not understand.' But in the end, we're all the same."

"What are you...?"

And in the blink of an eye, Harry felt the light fur of the centaur's body against his chest and he wrapped a hand against the staff of the spear, gripping it until his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into the wood, "It would do you good not to underestimate humans."

The centaur looked down at the human. He was a small man in size... but what was this overwhelming feeling of authority and power from him? And the centaur found himself unable to tear away from his grip and eyes, "... is that a threat?"

And Harry smiled in answer, a bland smile that did not reach his eyes, "No, it's a warning," and he released the centaur, stepping back and walking towards the narrow passage between two trees, "I'm afraid I have business now. I hope the stars will guide you," he laughed dryly, "Goodbye."

And he disappeared behind the foliage of the trees.

Harry never looked back, he kept heading forward with a growing feeling of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach. He did what he came here to do:

_To leave a thought behind_.

"And he'll think about it. That's how minds work. Centaurs, vampires, wizards, muggles, whatever... they're all the same in the end."

And Harry stopped, running his hand up and down the rotting bark of a tree, smelling the earth and feeling the gentle wind, "The threat on their home will force them to act. Not only because their scared and defensive... but because it's happened before."

_Yes..._

Deforestation happens regardless of animals and the very balance of the world. It happens out of _want and want and want_ but all it builds up to is _nothingness_. A world of limits and ugliness.

"And if the centaurs truly hate mankind..." Harry broke the bark off the tree and discarded it upon the ground as waste. He did not even give it a second look, "they will know just how ruthless and selfish we can be."

And the clouds rumbled in the sky.

Harry looked up, watching, through the gaps of the leaves, the monstrous black clouds engulf the wispy white, "My... the worlds is dark today."

* * *

"You heard him, Apshod, Vega." 

The bushes rustled as two centaurs appeared behind them, each armed with bow and arrows that were now being tucked into their quivers.

Apshod, a dark centaur with milky hair and bright eyes, scoffed as he looked towards the clearing where Harry disappeared, "Do not stress, Cain. The human, he bluffs."

"But what a strange wizard."

"A wizard?" the other one, Vega, with a chestnut coloring and stout legs snorted, "Surely he is a muggle."

"I cannot tell the difference, but it is peculiar behavior for a muggle not to question our existence."

"A wizard then," Apshod agreed, "A peculiar wizard, however, all he said were nothing but lies."

"Hmph, then you will tells so to the Tribe Leader," Vega smirked, straightening his shoulder and peering at his companion from the corner of his eyes, "However, we are not responsible for whatever scars you may earn for speaking so plainly out of place."

Sparks flew and Apshod growled deep within his throat and began to kick at the ground, fists clenched and eyes flashing.

"Friends," Cain intervened, coming in between them with raised hands, "at ease. We must return. The sky is turning dark."

"Very well," Apshod grunted, "I will go ahead," and he quickly galloped into the dense thickness of the forest. Cain nodded and turned to face Vega, handing him a short dagger from within a calico pouch at his side, "I will follow him. Mark our trails, Vega," and with swift, agile movements he also disappeared.

The sky rumbled above and Vega breathed, smelling rain and lightning, "A wizard... a peculiar wizard," and unbeknownst to him, a jocund smile spread over his lips, "Jupiter is unusually bright..."

* * *

The ground was wet due to the short-lived rain storm that watered the forest. Harry sat in a tree, sheltered under the thick leaves from the rain and wandering eyes as he tapped on his notebook and spied on Hogwarts, "Hn. The time is 0927 and yet no movement to the breach in the wards. The Death Eaters have grown sloppy," then he paused, tapping his pen against his cheek and his toes fiddling against the tree, "Or... they simply couldn't change the wards. Voldemort might have added the Death Eaters into Hogwarts' protection system... but he cannot remove past magic. Hm," Harry quickly wrote this all down, "This is only easier on us." 

Harry was watching the castle, expertly perched on a tree not even a good 30 feet away from Hagrid's Hut (which is now abandoned.) Although Harry had no intention of taking part in the next raid, it didn't mean that was any excuse for him to be useless. He was insightful, inquisitive, and sharp. The least he could do is help strategize and gather minor information.

"The wall of the Astronomy Tower looks lonely. And that's where the Gryffindor Tower should be. Window's broken... obviously Voldemort did his best to oust Gryffindors from Hogwarts. In fact..." Harry frowned, leaning forward and looking over the great expanse of Hogwarts' grounds, "no students outside the castle walls and no visible student activity inside the castle. Undeniable imprisonment."

And Harry released a heavy sigh. He was having a heavy feeling in his gut. He didn't want things to turn out this way... he really didn't, "I wonder... if this was my fault. Without a doubt, I took a great part in such suffering... but..."

_How can people blame me... when the only reason I have become the "boy-who-lived" wasn't due to fate or destiny... but a mother's genius... and a mistake?_

"She died. That is her mistake."

A death without explanation. A nonsensical death that created misunderstanding and put great responsibility upon the skinny shoulders of an unhealthy 11-year old boy.

"No use thinking about it and being miserable now."

Harry's goal now is to finish this and return to that comfortable life in Wammy's House. With children, happiness, and peace. That is Harry's—no, L's desire.

"0954, no movement. Enemy is slacking, weak points exploited, percent of victory... .32percent."

* * *

It's impossible to not worry for Harry Potter's safety, Remus realized as he climbed the tortuous staircase with a tray holding a sandwich and a glass of water in hand. It's only been a few hours at most, but Remus has already thought up of the most horrifying scenarios that could befall the young man. 

Remus reached the top of the stairs and walked down the dank hall. He stopped before a door and rapped his knuckles on it, then waited.

There is no answer.

"Snape," Remus called, leaning his face in towards the door, "open this door."

Still no answer.

Pressing his cheek against the door now, Remus shouted into the crack between the hinge and the wood, "Snape! Are you asleep?!"

There was still only silence that greeted him and Remus was beginning to get unnerved.

He quickly set down the tray and fishec out his wand, "Snape!" he growled, drawing a simple rune on the door with the tip of his wand and he wrenched open the door at the sounding tick, "Snape you—!"

And Remus froze as he took in the very empty room.

Remus found himself unable to move for the first few seconds of shock, then he pulled himself together and wandered over to the bed, impeccably clean, and looked behind, under, and over it. Nothing. The rest of the room is bare of furniture and the only window the room had was opened—

With quick steps to match his equally hastened heartbeat, Remus grabbed for the windowsill and looked down. There is nothing there, but there is nothing anywhere.

"Shit!"

Everything was beginning to spin out of control in Remus' mind. Colors were flying everywhere and he couldn't catch his breath.

Remus sprinted down the stairs, knocking over the tray in front of the door and he barged into the kitchen, startling McGonagall.

"Remus!" the woman cried, dropping plates in alarm, "What are—?!"

"Snape!" Remus was gasping for breath, golden eyes wide and dialated. And he reached out for the cabinet, slamming his fist against it.

How could this have happened?!

"Snape! _Snape is gone_!"

-be continued-

Whoa. Sorry for not... updating. I didn't expect myself to be taking a long break. But LJ's back.  
EDIT: I just realized I didn't put any spacers in. Sorry.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Harry returned around 16:00 that day and was greeted by the sight of a ragged looking Remus, ready to eat his own hair, "He's gone!" he shouted frantically.

"Who's gone?"

"SNAPE!!"

Harry laughed dryly, "Nonsense."

"And how would you know that?" McGonagall asked tiredly from the doorway. She leaned against the column of wood, crossing her arms and looking ready for business and war if she had to.

"Please think about it," Harry reasoned with a gentle voice, "Where would he go without me?"

Remus barked a laugh, his strangely sharp molars glinting dangerously in the dim light of the house, "Well that's just the kind of guy he is! A betraying, back-stabbing—"

"Remus."

At the calm call of Harry's solemn voice, Remus returned to himself. His golden eyes lost the animalistic light it held before and he seemed to lose a bit of the wolf inside, "Sorry…" he said, voice cracking, "I'm just… agitated. Just… so angry." _Worried sick about you, worried sick about everyone…_

"We have an Order meeting today," McGonagall said, trying to placate the mood, "We need to find him before it—"

"Find who?"

McGonagall and Remus spun around on their heels unhumanly quick and their eyes widened at the sight of the frowning Severus Snape who stood at the foot of the stairs, "Find who?" he repeated.

"You," Harry answered.

Snape blinked and his lips pressed together into a straight line, "Why?"

"They said you were gone—missing."

"Hah. Nonsense."

"What I said."

But Remus was already baring teeth, and squeezing his hands into fists, "How did you escape your room?" he demanded.

"Escape? The house elf left it open. I just left."

Remus jolted back with a start and turned to face Harry, aghast. Harry looked away with a tiny smile on his lips.

"More that just the fact that you _left_," McGonagall interjected now and towered over Snape, even with her smaller height, and glared right into the man's black eyes, "could you please enlighten us as to where in the _world_ you were?"

The Potions Lab," Snape answered easily, unfazed by McGonagall's intimidation tactic, "There's a severe lack of Pain Relievers, of the 0145-2g variety. So I took the liberty to make some. Simply let it simmer for an hour and it'll be okay to transfer it into separate vials and flasks," he looked away from McGonagall and nodded his greeting to Harry, "Good afternoon L."

"A late reaction. We have been standing here for well over 7 minutes now. Nevertheless, good afternoon, Shen."

Remus only laughed, a nervous, unbelievable sort of laughter and he ran a clammy hand through his hair, "The muggle world touched you in the head, Snape," he shook his head, "I don't know what made you think it way okay to roam the house like that when you're a prisoner."

"Indeed," McGonagall frowned and pushed Harry towards the stairs, moving the man as if he was a chess piece and gave a pointed order, "Go back to your room, both of you. I'll need to talk to you later, Mr. L."

Harry shook himself and cleared his throat, "Very well," then he turned to Snape with a small grin and said in a gentle voice, "Do you need an escort Shen? Can your _back_ hold?"

Snape sniffed indifferently and pulled the ratty, dark cloak over his shoulder, close to his body, "You're getting cheeky, boy. Especially when your _own_ back is crooked like your name."

"Haha, funny. I don't like hypocrites though," and he glanced over his shoulder at Remus and McGonagall, "so I shouldn't be one either," and he headed up the stairs, his bare feet padding softly against the wooden planks, and Snape followed closely behind him with a smirk.

Remus stared, the corner of his lips twitching in disdain and he looked at McGonagall with wide eyes, "… we're hypocrites?"

"I think he's just being spiteful," the woman sniffed and pulled a loose strand of dark hair neatly into place, "I won't claim to understand him though… so I won't speak for him."

"He's so different now. I don't know how to react to him anymore. All his changes and his strange behaviors… and the hate…"

McGonagall shifted uncomfortably at his side, "But we need Potter," she insisted, "Even if it was Lily and her spell… there's still a prophecy."

Remus' eyes widened in realization, "Oh," he breathed.

That's right. There was a prophecy. A prophecy that told of a fate that bound Harry to this life, this duty. Even if Harry didn't want to do this anymore, he had no choice—they had no choice but to continue to pull in him and involve him in this petty war that a child his age should had nothing to do with. And Harry so desperately wanted a way out… but the only exit there ever was for him…

… was to fulfill the prophecy.

"Potter's necessary for our victory," McGonagall sighed heavily, releasing all her stress and sadness in a puff of breath, then she drew herself together again and headed for the stairs, "Come, we'll need to get ready for the meeting. I'm going to see Potter. You deal with Severus," she clucked her tongue and shook her head, "Honestly… that man…"

Remus nodded behind her and the two went their separate ways at the top of the steps.

McGonagall entered Harry's room without announcement and found the man rolled into his own makeshift ball with his knees tucked under his chin and his toes curled into the carpet to keep himself from falling. At his feet was a strange muggle device McGonagall recognized as a "laptop."

"Po—" she stopped and cleared her throat, "… L."

Harry nodded, but didn't look up, dark eyes transfixed upon the screen, "The centaurs are not so different from us, I realized. They are half horse, but they are also half man, so they understand."

"Did they actually _agree_ to the war?"

"Of course not," Harry snorted, index fingers carefully tapping letter-buttons on the laptop, "Who agrees to war? It's an obligation that must be fulfilled in order to get what we want. In this case, the wizards want their freedom back, just as I fight for my own freedom from destiny."

McGonagall blinked and looked away solemnly. She bowed her head and clenched her hands into fists, "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Harry paused in his typing and looked up. His eyes were wide and emotionally-dead, stretched at the corners and dark with lack of sleep on the bottom. His lips were pursed and a pale fish-belly white, looking cold and as if they belonged on a corpse, "… No you're not," he accused in a smooth voice that could only belong to a man of charisma, "If you were… Harry Potter would have died peacefully."

McGonagall met his eyes and frowned, "You're right. I'm not sorry, that's because my priorities lie with the world and not my own happiness—not your happiness."

"But in the end, this entire war is for self-gain anyway—"

"At the price of our lives!" McGonagall snarled, her sharp eyes narrowed and instinctively out of anger she brought her fist down upon a near by table. The force of her impact shook the vase that sat on top of it and brought it crashing to the floor with the noise of shattering glass, "We will die for happiness, but I don't die for myself, but for other people! You call us selfish, but you don't understand how much we sacrifice…"

"… But I'm just a child. I don't _want_ to die."

McGonagall breathed heavily, chest heaving with each intake of calming breath and she stared at Harr—L. His eyes… were so cold… "No one does… But you said it yourself: 'It's an obligation.'"

"Now…" McGonagall leaned over, her face meaning business and eyes glinting with hard ice, "tell me, _L_. What is the situation?"

And Harry deflated visibly, his shoulders relaxed and his normally wide eyes narrowed. He was so tired, '_I must resign… to my fate.'_ "I've discovered two weak spots in the castle. They are unguarded and vacant. Gather the numbers. This will end, tomorrow night."

* * *

"Kreacher let you out."

Snape looked away, leaning against the window and his dark eyes peering into the orange sky, "Yes. That abomination. Did I not say that the last five times now?

Remus did not answer. He fell back against the plain, maroon wall of the room and sighed, '_Harry…_'

Silence fell between them. Both men awkwardly looked away from each other and fidgeted his their fingers and toes, finding other things of interest other than themselves.

Then Snape looked up, his eyes looking over the weary, skinny figure of the other man. Remus had not changed much. He was always worn and lanky, "… you said… once," he started hesitantly, "You knew something about L that I didn't—"

"It wasn't true," Remus cut in, looking down at his outgrown nails coolly.

Snape glared and pursed his lips, clearly not believing him.

"I was angry then. It was a bluff."

"Hm," Snape was still not convinced, "I see," but he let it go momentarily. He could always ask L. Surely the man didn't hide anything of great importance from him.

"Just forget about it," Remus tried to give the Potions Master and crooked smile, strained at the corners and his lips pressed together tightly, "More importantly, what do you think you were doing just freely wandering around when we clearly told you to stay and if you tried to escape we would not hesitate to kill you."

"I didn't escape. I stayed in this house. I was making potions."

Remus scoffed, "What if they were really poison," he muttered dolefully to himself. Snape glared in warning and Remus bit his tongue in slight guilt, "Nevermind. Just… don't do it again, okay?" he rubbed his forehead with the palm of his head and tried to will away the growing headache with the massage, "I was so scared—"

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? You're a Death Eater that we keep in our secret base. You killed the 'man you trusted most!' I'd be daft not to be scared!"

Snape looked away with a tight-lipped frown, "I didn't kill him."

"But you did!"

"But I didn't mean to."

Remus snapped. His arms flew out in a sweeping motion and he gripped the front of Snape's robe and yanked him aimlessly, "That makes no argument, Snape!" he barked in a sharp, commanding tone. Snape flinched instinctively and tried to wrench free from Remus's grasp, but the other man was too strong.

Remus breathed, golden eyes wide and dilated, he released Snape and stumbled backwards, falling against the wall and heaving for breath, "You... you might have this... 'white picket fence' dream about... going back to the muggle world or whatever, but it's not that simple! Murder, whether it was assisted suicide or not, is still murder! Especially in the eyes of the press and the common witch or wizard. They will persecute you. You probably won't ever go back."

A chill fell over the room. Snape trembled where he stood, his hands clenched into tight fists and his teeth gnawed on his lip, "... ... I will. I _will_ go back. And you and this _damned world_ cannot stop me!"

"Why the hell are you so determined?! If this is about L—"

Snape rushed forward. His fists met the wall next to Remus' head with a tremorous bang and he looked up, eyes glinting with a fire of emotion behind the dark curtain of his hair, "This isn't about just L anymore; it's also about me! As self-centered as it sounds, I also want to live without fear! I want bloody _freedom_ too, Lupin!!"

"... but I'm telling you... you can't have it. Not anymore."

Snape sneered, backing off and falling into his chair gracefully, "That's what you fail to understand. I _will_ have it."

Remus brushed his robes off and headed towards the door, groping almost blindly for the doorknob, "Don't do anything stupid, Snape. Because the moment you mess up—"

"It's all over."

The werewolf nodded, opening the door and stepping out, "Yeah. I don't trust you, but... I understand."

"Wait," Snape called out, sitting up, "Before you leave... tell me. What is L hiding that you know, but I don't?"

'_I want to tell him... I do...'_ Remus turned to face Snape, face sullen and shadowed '_But I can't.' _"I can't say. It'll hurt you. Don't ask again," and he left, closing the door behind him and the brass knob glowed with magic.

Snape sat there with a frown and heavy piece of lead weighing down his wounded heart, "... L...?"

* * *

Harry surveyed the room of people with a growing feeling of dread.

Was this Dumbledore's acclaimed "Order of the Phoenix?" This measly handful of harried pariahs with red-rimmed eyes, thin lips, and unwashed hair? Surely, this was more a convention of beggars than warriors.

Harry sat in the shadows, playing a quiet game of solitaire on his laptop while the small crowd murmured and made way to get seated and rested.

McGonagall came up to the front, already casting a _Sonorus_ with her wand and she greeted the Order, "Good evening. Welcome to the final meeting of the Order of the Phoenix."

Such a dreary opening. Harry sighed, closing his laptop and turning to listen.

"Tomorrow, we will begin our final attack. All forces will be sent out, and we will ambush them with a surprise attack."

A woman raised her hand, "Question," she chirped rather brightly, "What of allies? We were promised allies, with France and Italy, right?" she turned to face Fleur who quickly looked away.

McGonagall cleared her throat, "I'm afraid... they want nothing to do with this war."

This set off a cry from the small group of people who turned to one another with loud voice and worried eyes. Harry shook his head, bemoaning the fall of the "Order."

"Please!" McGonagall tried, her voice easily carrying over the buzz of noise, but to no avail, "Please, everyone. Listen to me. Instead of numbers, we have power! We have the werewolves, they will lead the frontal assault—"

A man's voice rang out clearly from the noise, "But You-Know-Who's side has werewolves too! Ferocious beasts like Fenrir Greyback!"

Another proclamation of agreement rose from the Order, and witches fidgeted restlessly in their seats.

Harry stood up and came out from behind the shadows with a frown, "Tsk. What a mess," he droned seriously, catching McGonagall's attention and wide, near begging eyes, "Dumbledore really screwed up by dying."

One of the members sitting in the front made an offended face, "Who the hell—"

He was caught off by a woman who stood up abruptly in her seat and pointed a trembling finger, "Ha... Harry Potter..."

L paused next to McGonagall and met the woman's eyes, "..."

It was like a bomb was set off right in the middle of the room. Panic and chaos rose to a new degree and everyone tried to rush forward, tripping over chairs and people. Women craned their necks like giraffes to try to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man at the front, while men were pushing others to reach the stage. Their cries and questions were all the same: "Harry? Harry _Potter_?" "He came back!" "Now we'll win for sure!"

Harry frowned and stepped forward, speaking over the noise, "My name is L."

Sudden silence fell over the room and everything stopped.

A woman stumbled forward with an outstretched hand, "But... aren't you Harry Potter?"

"My name is L."

One of the men snapped. He kicked away a chair that stood in front of him and stepped up menacingly, "Don't joke around like that, Harry! This is serious—"

"I assure you," Harry cut in, eyes growing dark with his mood, "I am always serious."

McGonagall took this chance to introduce the man formally, "This is L Lawliet. A man who's help we have enlisted in order to achieve vic—"

"_DON'T FUCK AROUND!!_"

"Yeah! That's Harry Potter!!"

"Bitch is just too scared to come out properly! COWARD!!"

Harry stood, unfazed.

But one woman, from all the rest, came up. Her red hair, sprinkled with gray strands, was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She had a pale scar over the back of the shaking hand she pressed against her chest in order to calm her pounding heart, "Harry?" Molly Weasley whispered, "Harry is that really you?"

Harry flinched visibly and stepped back, "Harry Potter is _dead,_" he said in a clear voice, "My name is L."

A man from the crowd sneered, "Nothing's going to change just because you switched names, Potter. You lost once, and by the looks of it, it seems that you're going to lose again—"

"_Shut up_."

Every eye turned to face the furious face of one Ron Weasley.

Harry blinked, surprised and somewhat moved, '_Ron...'_

"Shut the bloody hell up and listen to the man," Ron snarled like a beast and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, "Who gives a bloody damn if that's Harry or not? We're not here to bicker like a bloody group of midwives, we're here to win a bloody war!!"

Moody snorted in the back, "Ah-men."

Harry looked up with soft eyes and a tiny smile, "Thank you," he breathed, "Now that I have your attention. I'd like to give you a basic overview of tomorrow.

We will be split into four different groups. Group one will be led by Ms. Fleur Delacour—"

"Weasley," the woman interrupted, "Fleur Weasley."

Harry smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, "Ah, apologies. Mrs. Fleur Weasley. They will head towards the Gryffindor Common Room. It is currently abandoned and your mission is to safely escort all the children out of the castle.

Group two will be led by Bill and Charlie Weasley. Up the astronomy tower, gentlemen. Your job is a bit of a retrieval mission in the Headmaster's office."

Bill and Charlie shared a wolfish grin with each other.

"Group three's leader will be Mr. Remus Lupin. He will lead the frontal assault. Finally we have group four led by Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall. They will lead the battle that will follow the assault.

Each member currently in this room has been separated by their gifts in speed, defense, and power. Depending on which category you excel in, that's the team you'll be in. Sadly, Mr. Lupin's team is all filled up so we have no opening for that."

Many faces smiled with relief.

Harry cleared his throat and turned to McGonagall, "Then that's all from me. Madam McGonagall, if you will..."

"Wait," one man called from the crowd. The same man who accused Harry of being a coward, "Before you leave... what... just what are the chances of us winning, of us living? You know... don't you?"

Harry paused, he met Remus's aged amber eyes and felt his lips arch into a frown. Did he... really have the courage to tell these people? These battle-weary people who were all prepared to die within their minds... but not in their hearts?

Harry looked back and met the man's eyes and only saw fear and determination, "Don't worry about it. All you need to realize is... this is a win-or-lose war. There are no 'chances,'" and he left with a sad smirk. He really was a coward.

"Ronald Weasley," McGonagall called from the front, "will you step outside? Even with L's planning, we need to clean things up a bit."

Ron shrugged and stood fluidly, "Alright," he sighed easily and padded out of the room with light steps.

McGonagall watched the redhead's bony shoulders as they hunched over much like L's, and sighed as he disappeared behind the heavy doors, "Each teamleader will get a list of instructions and team members. Please read it over and read it to your team as well. If there are any questions, please ask Remus or Alastor and they'll tell you. That's all."

And everyone began to move with the grace of a man who didn't have a care in the world. Who knew he was about to die and no longer cared about anything anymore...

They had lived out their life to the fullest and had no regrets, not anymore.

_They were ready to die_.

McGonagall watched with growing horror. This was wrong. This was not what she had wanted in this world. They fought to live not to die...!

"We have forgotten... what we are fighting for..."

"_I don't want to die" ... "No one does."_

She was wrong. They all wanted to die, and Harry knew it well...

They all lost that simple meaning that led them to fight from the start. That simple want of _Freedom_.

* * *

Ronald Weasley lost himself one year ago.

His sister was killed, his most beloved was murdered, and his best friend was destroyed. He figured then... he might as well disappear to join them.

But he continued to live, in a physical sense of the word. He breathed, he ate, he slept... but he couldn't feel anymore. Not when his mother shed tears over his shoulder or when his brothers forced a painful smile and gave a choked laugh. Ron figured, this was the closest to dying he could get now.

But it was five months ago, in the middle of May that the news came to him.

Harry Potter was still alive.

For the first time in what seemed to be eternity... Ron felt life in him again. A phoenix rose again within him and he felt that will to live.

But when Order Members left to find Harry and came back empty-handed, he realized... perhaps this was futile. What man would fight against a man whom he had already lost against. It was ridiculous. They had no chance, no hope anymore.

Harry, no matter the fact he was alive and kicking, would not come back.

But they said he did. Two days ago, Harry came back draped in the arms of the traitor Snape.

And Ron couldn't believe it.

"... Ron."

Ron did not believe it.

"... who are you?"

A dark haired man with black, black eyes. He was pale, thin, and _dead_. A blank smile was spread across his pale lips and his bare foot was kicking at the floor. His toe was bleeding, "My name is L. L Lawliet."

Ron copied the other's empty smile and nodded in greeting, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Ron Weasley."

"No... the pleasure's mine."

Harry Potter had surely died that day, six months ago.

* * *

Ron changed, Harry noticed. He ignored his aching toe and he walked down the hallway into the meeting room where McGonagall had set up a round table for strategists to sit around while each giving their own opinions and thoughts. This was when Hermione was still alive. She and Ron were the sharpest pair of strategists the Order had ever seen.

But with her death, everything went downhill and fell into chaos.

And Harry had lost as well; it was all over.

"Reading your plans, I see what you're trying to do. It's a very good plan... it's like... you're reading the opponent to the end of the game..." Ron muttered in a low voice while he read over Harry's paper. Harry sat in his seat without a word.

Ron's quick eyes read over the messy scrawl of Harry's writing and he mentally ticked off each move in his mind and he was practically reeling back from the overload.

This was like a complex chess game played out by the greatest masters. It was brilliant.

Ron set down the paper and looked up with bright, brown eyes. Harry met them with a frown, "Yes?"

"... I would like to play against you once... in chess."

Time passed for a while without any movement from the pair. Then Harry smiled, a wide and toothy smile that only Harry Potter couldn't done, "I'd enjoy that," he chimed lightly, "Perhaps... after the war."

"Yes. After the war." '_When we are free at last_.'

Ron felt that he could come to like this... L Lawliet.

* * *

"What's going on L?"

Harry frowned and leaned back further into his chair, cradling his laptop on his thighs, "What are you talking about Shen?"

"You know something—Lupin knows something that I don't! ... about you."

Harry blinked, eyes fixated upon the bright screen of his notebook and he chewed on the flesh of his thumb, "Is that so? Mr. Lupin said that?" '_Remus... you fool..._'

"And something was going on down there. Order meetings just aren't that angry. I could feel the anger..."

Harry shook his head and closed his laptop. This was dangerous, he needed to leave before he said something wrong, "I don't know what you're talking about... order meeting?"

Snape nodded, his moves were jerky and almost forced, "Yes... that's right... you're just a muggle. You wouldn't know..." he pursed his lips and nervously rubbed his chin, scratching at the dark stubble.

Harry held his laptop and stood up tentatively, "You haven't shaved, nor slept. Go rest Shen, I'll be leaving for my room—"

"L."

"... yes?"

Snape came forward and rested his heavy hands on Harry's shoulders, weighing him down and stopping him... much like an unwanted obstacle, "You... you're not hiding any big thing from me are you?"

Harry frowned and looked away. Snape reached out and pulled his face straight, making their eyes meet, "... are you?"

"No. I'm not," he lied and immediately felt sick... his stomach churned and he couldn't breathe. His sight... was beginning to fade...

"You promise?" Snape tried.

"I can't promise that."

Snape growled and jerked him, knocking his head back violently and making spots appear in Harry's vision, "Promise me, L! Promise that you won't hide anything from me!"

Harry shook his head frantically, his clammy hand came up to grip Snape's thin wrist and he pierced Snape with a sharp, black-eyed glare, "Then you promise me! Promise me you won't hate me!"

"_What?!_ Are you hiding something from m—"

"Promise me! Promise me!"

They fell silent, not releasing their hold on one another, but Snape was visibly shaken. His cheeks were pale and his dark eyes glassy, "... ... I promise. I promise I won't hate you. So promise me that you won't hide anything from me L."

Harry's lips trembled and his hand fell to his side, dangling lifelessly. Snape's own grip tightened on his shoulder and Harry nodded, "Okay. I promise..." he choked out.

'_Snape... Shen... you made me the liar. You did.'_

Harry left, Snape let him. And once he reached his own room he collapsed on the floor and gagged over the wastebasket near his bed. He was so, so sick...

"Just please..." Harry sobbed through his spit and tears, "please don't hate me."

_Because I'll lose myself without you, my feeble grasp on humanity._

-be continued-

I'll explain because I expect a lot of people to be like "HUH?" at the end.

What Harry's crying about is that he's a liar now and he knows that Snape _will_ hate him when he figures out that Harry is Harry and not L. Because Snape trusts L not Harry.

But Harry doesn't want Snape to hate him because he's that "feeble grasp on humanity" that he's talking about in the last line. Snape is what makes Harry want to come back to the muggle world, Snape is why Harry wants to live... because he's the only friend he's had in that time when he thought he wasn't allowed friends. He could have Mello and Matt and all the other children all he wants, but their just children who have no idea what he's about, but Snape understands and he seems to accept his "change" (even though he doesn't know who he really is) when none of the others (McGonagall, Remus, etc.etc.) would. So he doesn't want to lose that when he goes back to being L. Something like that.


	9. Chapter 8

Thank you Ayumu Kasuga for beta-reading this thing.

Chapter 8

Harry was annoyed, even bordering anger. Remus had stepped into his room just a while ago, and Harry didn't even look at him. Remus knew something was wrong, and it was probably _his_ fault, "Harry?" he tried.

There was a cold, dark-eyed glare sent his direction that sent a train of goosebumps down Remus' arms, "What did we say about that name?" was the hissed reply and Remus nodded, looking away, "Sorry..."

"Is there something you want?"

Remus shifted, "Do you have a second?"

Harry sighed, beckoning towards the only chair in the room, "Please," he offered and Remus smiled weakly, "Thank you," and he fell heavily into the chair, watching Harry on his place on the ground next to his laptop, "How are you faring?" he asked politely.

"Not well, thank you," the last part was said with such sarcasm that Remus almost felt a sort of joy in his heart. That was like the Harry he had known...

"Oh," Remus bit his lip, already worried to tatters, "I'm sorry."

Harry didn't believe his apology and merely brushed it aside. He had more pressing matters they had to talk about, "Remus, I want to ask you something."

"Y-yes?"

"..." and his fingers paused in their typing, and the cold rage in Harry's dead eyes returned, piercing him like a sword right through his gut, "Why did you tell?"

Remus' stomach lurched and cold sweat ran down the back of his neck, "Tell?" he breathed, half-knowing what Harry was talking about. And the slamming of Harry's fist against a leg of the table startled him. The table fell over and the vase on top shattered with a loud noise. The dried roses that were in the vase lied sadly among the sharp pieces of china and water.

Harry's face was contorted into something beastly, and the wolf inside Remus purred at seeing something so like himself, something so _animal_, "Why did you tell Shen?!" the detective demanded, his temper still flaring even after he had destroyed something, "Did you not promise me?! You promised you wouldn't tell and you broke that promise! You're a liar, Remus! A liar!"

And whether it was the fact that Harry seemed to completely lose his L-persona and revert back to himself or Remus just didn't appreciate being called names, the werewolf found his confidence ebbing back to him and his amber eyes narrowed thinly, dark pupils elongating and he gripped the arm of the chair and broke the wood, "You're a liar too, Harry," he hissed, "You said you'd defeat Voldemort that day, six months ago. You said it would be the last battle. _You _said we could be happy! You said it, Harry!"

"_L!!_"

Remus snapped, standing up swiftly and knocking back the chair he was sitting it, "L Lawliet, you're the biggest liar of us all!!" he roared, "That name is a lie, this face is a lie, _YOU'RE_ a lie!!"

"I...!" Harry gasped, heart pounding in his chest and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins, '_That's right. I'm a liar_,' Harry bit back a sob and tore his eyes away from Remus' towering figure to where the dead roses laid, fighting back the onslaught of emotions and his bony frame trembled, "That's right, I lie. I probably lied yesterday too. I said I was L... that I wasn't Harry... that Harry Potter was dead," Harry buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream, "I made Molly cry, Remus! I made her cry _for me_! God. I just... feel like keeling over and dying. Just dying."

Remus visibly deflated. He raised a shaking hand to run through his hair, feeling a heavy sigh escape him, "... sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Yes I am," and Remus fell to his knees and laid his hands on Harry's thin shoulders, gripping it tightly, "I'm sorry."

"... me too..." Harry sniffed and ran a hand over his flushed cheeks. He gave Remus a small, crooked smile and patted the werewolf's knee, "Let's fight this battle without contempt. Besides Remus, you're all I have left... of Dad."

Remus blinked, surprised at Harry's openness, and felt the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a smile, "Yeah, that's right."

"I really wanted to forget them."

"... James and Lily?"

"Everyone."

"Oh," Remus dropped his hands from the other's shoulders and nervously scratched his chin, "... you know... that's just not possible."

Harry let out a small breathy laugh, nodding his head, "Yeah. Impossible. This is my fate afterall."

"Fate..." Remus muttered to himself before he brightened, "Ah, the prophecy! I wanted to talk about _that_ actually."

Harry scoffed and turned back to his laptop, resuming his typing with not so much as a shrug, "Nothing to talk about. It's as clear as it comes. Voldemort and I face off, and either Voldemort or I will fall. Simple."

Remus tilted his head to and fro, eyes looking up at the ceiling in thought, "Ah... sure... but what I was wondering about was... that thing you possess that he does not. I was wondering if that was your heir trait."

"Probably not," Harry answered quickly, eyes not looking away from the bright screen, "It doesn't really help me in this battle. It's not like Voldemort would want this sort of power anyway. He wants to eradicate Muggles, not become the best amongst them."

"Why not? I would."

Harry sniffed, brows furrowing a bit, "... you're not exactly Voldemort."

"That's not what I meant," Remus said patiently with a soft smile. Harry didn't quite see the charms in being a superior muggle, obviously. He thought such abilities were completely useless against a wizard, and probably, in terms of strength, it was all for naught. But there was also a simple charm in being a genius, wizard or not, "I wouldn't mind being a genius either way. So what if you can't remember spells or make potions to save your life. You know so many things that normal people don't! How many languages do you know?"

"Five. I speak three fluently."

"See! That's amazing! I only know two and even then I can only speak English well enough. Also, the arithmetic _you_ know is far more advanced, and you know so much that normal witches or wizards don't, and that _is_ amazing!"

Harry frowned, his cheeks a pale pink, "Hm."

Remus smiled and gently pat Harry on the back, ignoring how he stiffened, "I'm sure... your parents and Sirius are all very proud of you."

And something lit up in Harry's eyes. He nervously looked at the werewolf from the corner of his eye and his fingers hovered over the keys of his laptop, shaking, "Do you... really think that?"

Remus stared, unable to believe what he had just heard. Harry, over the last few days, came off to Remus and the rest of the occupants of the house as unfeeling and emitting a strange sort of arrogance. He spent his time doing everything in his power to annoy them and bring them grief, but the Harry before him... hunched over and curled in on himself, was worried about what the _dead_ thought of him, '_Under that cover of a self-confident genius is really the identity of a young, misplaced boy wizard_,' and Remus smiled encouragingly, "I know it."

Harry let out a small, shaky breath and closed his laptop, "We must prepare for tonight, Remus," he announced and crawled over and reached under his bed, pulling out a small duffel from underneath, "This will be the last battle," and with practiced movements, Harry loosened the opening of the bag and pulled out a sleek, black handgun from within, "and failure is not an option."

* * *

Something was growing in the pit of Snape's stomach.

An unmistakable feeling of dread.

It happened right after L had left the room yesterday. Like a knife in the dark, that feeling stabbed him in the stomach without warning and Snape had keeled over, wrapping his thin arms around himself. Goosebumps crawled all over his skin and he did all he could to not get sick on himself.

McGonagall had come in earlier today, lips pulled into a thin, grim line and she had told him the last battle would be taking place tonight, "And it would do you well to _not_ leave your room at any given time, if you could."

She had left with a huff when Snape ignored what she said and continued to ask about L. And it was probably her sad, sort of pitying, look that caused his insides to jolt and his face to pale.

Something was going to happen. _Happen to L_.

McGonagall had told him again and again in more ways then one that he was not to leave his room under any circumstances. Snape usually followed the rules well, and in his schoolboy days he always had a keen ear for the voice of authority.

But this was different. It wasn't just a few notes off his homework because curfew was near and the library was closing or it wasn't just being late to class because he refused to run in the halls...

This was that if he didn't leave this room... he would lose a dear friend.

Snape groaned and grounded himself, the cold floor feeling pleasant against his feverish forehead. Something in the background creaked and Snape looked up.

Kreacher stood in the doorway, his gnarled, ugly face twisted into a sinister grin and he spoke in his throaty voice, "Master didn't specify whether Kreacher should or should not open the door all the times," were his only words and he popped out of view.

Snape stared, absently wondering why Potter or Black would want this particular door opened, before he got up on his shaking legs and forced himself forward.

The pain was still present and throbbing low in his abdomen, but it was his fear that urged him on.

He had lost one too many lives in this war, and he was not about to let himself lose another.

* * *

Harrry stared blankly at the gathered clusters of Order members, all looking worse for wear, but each of them still had a strange glint of determination in their eyes. And that was how Harry knew this wasn't a lost cause.

Remus approached him, his eyes bright and his lips pulled into a grim smile, "My group is ready."

Harry nodded, "Each of them took the Wolfsbane Potion for certain?"

"Certain."

"Good," and the detective dismissed him, letting Remus return to his group of fellow werewolves, each of them on their toes and looking worse for wear as the their time of transformation neared.

Two hours. That's how long they had until the transformation; the Order would have to move out in just one. Harry raised a fist, silently signaling to the group leaders that they would need to hurry it up; group Portkeys were not as inconspicuous as single portkeys. The earlier, the better.

Each group leader had their own duties of keeping their members informed and made sure to know what sorts of strength or weakness each member had. If one member proved to have an affinity for one single branch of magic, it was their job to make sure they took advantage of that, but in the case a member had some physical or magical defect, it was also their job to make sure that disability would not come to get in the way of that member or, worse, the others.

"L."

Harry turned to meet McGonagall. He greeted her with a curt nod which was returned in a lady-like manner, "How does it look from over there?" Harry asked the woman. McGonagall gave a crooked sort of smile and gestured towards Bill and Charlie's group, "As you can see... at least some of us are very excited."

Harry returned the expression as he watched Bill flex his hand carefully, a wide grin on his rugged face, and Charlie shook from his unbridled excitement. They have been waiting for this moment for their entire lives, and Harry felt a sort of pity that their life goals were to win a war that might end their lives. But then again, it was the same life goal Harry lived with for seven years.

"It would be best that we don't kill that spirit, don't you think so?" Harry asked rhetorically, turning away from the witch to slowly gather up an armful of random rubbish and he spread them all out over the table. The then grabbed a disposable, muggle camera and pressed it into McGongall's hand, "That's for Remus. They will depart in 10 minutes. Make sure he has enough potions for the group."

McGonagall shifted, turning to leave but then paused, meeting Harry's curious eyes as she spoke, "Half of the potions given to the groups were made by Snape. Are you sure it's oka—"

"It's fine," Harry waved off her worries as if it was a speck of dust on his shoulders, "It's not because I trust Shen with my life. It's more of the fact that Shen has more pride in his ability to brew a perfect potion that he could never bring himself to botch it up purposely."

McGonagall said nothing and simply turned and walked away, but Harry knew she was not about to argue with him on the topic because if it concerned Snape... there really was no arguing with Harry.

"We have forty minutes," Harry murmured, looking at the table clock on top of his chair. He looked at McGonagall who immediately snapped into attention, awaiting instructions, "Tell Remus he must gather his group. He'll leave in three minutes. No objections. I will get around to the others. Hurry."

With a curt nod, the woman dashed away to where the werewolves were gathered, and Harry turned the other way towards Fleur who already held a empty, plastic bottle (her portkey) in hand. Harry flashed five fingers her way and received a nod from the French girl.

Harry took a glance back to where Remus' group was last, only to find them gone. He smiled approvingly and marched on over to Charlie and Bill who seemed to have been waiting for him with easy grins on their faces.

"Hey there Mr. L," Charlie called friendlily and Bill silently waved. Harry eyed their soft expressions and confident eyes, but also saw their stiff postures and clenched fists. They were as excited about this fight as they were nervous, "Hello there gentlemen," Harry greeted plainly, "You have ten minutes. Do not leave before Ms. Delacour—my mistake, Mrs. Weasley."

Charlie gave him a thumbs-up and a wide, toothy smile, "Roger that, boss," he sang. His light attitude seemed to put his men at ease so Harry didn't say anything of it. He turned to leave, but stilled when a large, gnarled hand snatched at his wrist and pulled him back. The touch-and-grab startled Harry to a point where he shifted around and kicked his foot out, aiming to catch the offender on their jaw, but even his ankle was caught in a vice-like grip.

But before he could rise to a full-blown panic, a rough, familiar voice stilled him, "Whoa, whoa. Calm down there. Sorry 'bout that, but I... uh... I don't know. I thought it might be awkward to... call your name."

Harry looked up at Bill with his wide, dead-fish eyes. His ankle was released and his foot fell back to the ground with a solid smacking noise. He didn't particularly regret acting like that, but it was still somewhat embarrassing that he lost his cool so easily, "It is no problem," he said softly under his breath, taking his wrist back from the other man and sticking both hands into his pants' pockets, "Is there a problem?"

Bill sheepishly scratched his neck and nodded, "Not so much of a problem... just... something that was on my mind since yesterday. I didn't want to say 'cause I thought you might not appreciate me asking this, but I figured... I had to."

Harry knew at once what was coming and he prepared himself for it. If this was anything like what he felt when Molly looked at him with her wet eyes and trembling body yesterday... he was sure to break.

"Are you Harry?"

Harry ran his tongue over his lips in a nervous gesture and met Bill's dark eyes with his darker ones. Bill was a strong man. He was wise and powerful; someone Harry looked up to in his youth, and even now he was worthy of _L_'s respect.

So Harry was tempted just to say the truth and be over with. But then, he paused on that thought. Just what side was the truth? Surely he was L and he had long ago thrown away Harry Potter's life for a Muggle detective's one. But in the end, with all the magic flowing through his body and all that self-righteous anger that tended to rear up its ugly head whenever those painful topics were called back... Harry Potter could not be easily discarded.

Harry looked back over his shoulder and saw that Fleur was gone. He checked the clock and saw only twenty minutes remaining, "You must hurry now. It's time."

Bill made a sour face at the other man, but was led away by Charlie to the rest of the group. Harry left them to their own business and sought out McGonagall.

She still had his wand hidden somewhere. Harry felt the tips of his fingers tickling for the feel of that familiar, smooth wooden branch, but the L inside squashed it ruthlessly. Harry Potter would only last until after this war... and once this battle was fought and won (no matter which side had come out victorious in the end) Harry Potter must be forgotten in place of L. _Must_.

"Ah, L. There you are," Harry looked behind his to see McGonagall walking up to him with quick steps. Moody was not to far from her, and a further distance away was a large group of the gathered fighters, "It's time. We must be leaving as well."

Harry nodded, "Very well. Check out potions and weapons bag. We must be well equipped," and he patted his pants pocket for the heavy, metal shape of his handgun. It felt cold against his leg.

"We've already done so. We're ready to leave."

Harry gave her a curt affirmative and followed her quick pace with his own short dash back to the group. Everyone shifted nervously once Harry joined them and pulled out an unassuming belt buckle from inside his pocket, "If everyone will please grab hold of the hand of the person next to you," he said in a clear voice. Everyone obeyed at once and after a quick assessment, Harry handed the buckle over to Moody who took it without hesitation, "Then" he looked at Harry for a countdown, "... at three."

Harry smiled wryly and said in a low voice, "Three."

* * *

Snape stumbled out of the room, arm still wrapped around his stomach. He was hurting so much right now...

He was trying to find the other order members, but had somehow found his way into L's room by accident. His feet had just led him here...

With a stuttered gasp, Snape fell on top of L's bed and curled into a ball, mussing the white covers with his movements. He didn't know his body was so cold and his abdomen felt like something was cutting into his right now.

Like Death had seized him in it unrelenting grip and was threatening to pull out his soul from that very spot. It was a burning-cold feeling...

"What the hell's wrong with me...?"

Was he dying? Was the magic in the air killing him after his time in the Muggle world?

Snape gave a shaky breath and pushed himself up to his knees, crawling to the edge of the bed before tumbling off the stiff mattress. He was crumpled on the floor, temple pressed to the ground in an attempt to force back the black spots that danced before his vision like fireworks of shadows. It was all very beautiful and inviting, but still irritating.

Snape reached out a hand to try and pick himself back up again. He grasped the handle of the dresser next to the bed and pulled himself back up onto his hands and knees. His action accidentally opened up the drawer and Snape moved to close it, only to stop when he saw something strange inside.

A wand.

Snape's face formed a thoughtful frown as he realized he's seen this wand before...

In the hands of no one other than Harry Potter.

Snape pushed the memory of the bright-eyed boy back into the deeper recesses of his mind and grabbed for the wand instead.

Instantly, warmth spread throughout his entire body, comforting his aching limbs and even the cold pain in his stomach began to ebb way into a dull throb. How strange. Normal wands wouldn't dare welcome a wizard other than its own master; not unless that master had trusted the other wizard with his life... but Potter would never...

Snape gulped thickly, and his grip on the wand tightened, unintentionally forcing bright sparks to come fizzing out at the tip. Snape released his iron-hold on the handle and instead held it out on in the palm of his hand, inspecting it with curious eyes.

... could he use this?

Pointing the tip of the wand at the pieces of a broken vase on the ground, Snape whispered shortly, "_Reparo_."

The vase shards twitched into life and fixed itself into a whole again.

And Snape's lips curled into a smirk.

He never thought it would come to this ever, but he would have to thank Potter for this small favor.

And with the wand tucked safely into the inner-pocket of his robe, Snape pulled in the excess magic around the manor, and with a sharp crack, popped out of existence.

-be continued-

Sorry for the lateness, but it's almost over and I'm just so... hesitant.


	10. Chapter 9

And so, it begins.

Chapter 9

Harry found it irrational and unnerving that all he could hear through the silence as he and the others waited in the foliage was the resounding _thump-thump-thump_ of his own heart. But even as the beating echoed between the gaps of the leaves, the forest was quiet and chillingly still.

This was, most likely, the calm before the storm.

McGonagall stood behind him, quietly twirling her wand between her fingers; she seemed to be experienced with the motion. She breathed deliberately slow and focused her hard eyes straight ahead at the castle door. She never once lost her grip.

From the corner of both their eyes, a light appeared.

Harry trembled. "Wands at ready."

The flurry of motion was instantaneous and all the hands raising their wands made the leaves rustle noisily, but it went unheard as soul-wracking howls tore at the black sky, making the earth below Harry's feet shudder and the air around his skin shake.

"That's the cue. Remember your positions. Watch for the light—watch."

Then the wolves charged forward, each one snapping their jaws and crying out at the full moon. They ripped their way across the clearing to the castle gates, claws digging out the earth's flesh as they rushed. Harry's fringe shifted as they ran past.

"Watch."

The main gates of Hogwarts opened up, showing the hidden army the line of feral werewolves, all of them silent and controlled under a tentative imperius.

"Don't turn away."

Remus, leading the pack, stormed into the line with a booming roar and he made the first attack, smashing his open paw onto the wet snout of the first enemy he came across, effectively breaking his neck with a grotesque noise and quickly ending his life. The line of werewolves broke, and with it so did the wavering imperius spell. No longer controlled, the beasts retaliated and chaos broke loose.

"_Now!!_"

With a curse ready on the tips of their tongue, Harry and McGonagall's group surged forward, joining the bloody struggle. They met the small group of Death Eater lackeys that also rushed from behind the castle doors to stop them. Harry stayed behind, not armed with a wand.

"It's win or die," he whispered without remorse. Something behind him shifted rustling the leaves and making familiar clopping noises. A low voice chuckled, "Then we best win."

Harry smirked in response and pulled the spring of his gun.

* * *

"There it is," Charlie announced to his small rag-tag group of retrieval ops. He pointed out the sea of red sparks that appeared from over the trees and Bill looked at it with narrowed eyes before turning back to his men with a rugged grin. "Easy job. Let's finish this and go help them out."

His brother returned his look. "You said it."

"It is time."

* * *

Fleur turned to her mother in law who nervously hovered around the astronomy tower, wringing her hand together and tearing her lip with her teeth. After a moment of looking around the base of the tower with darting eyes, Molly pulled out her wand and randomly tapped at the bricks. "There was an old spell around here... or so Minerva said."

The blonde French-woman smiled gently and tapped her wand into a subtle niche in the brick pillar. There was a moment of silent nervousness before a solid thud sounded within the tower and a mushroom of dust rose as the bricks moved amongst themselves, forming a line of perfect stairs.

Someone from behind her whistled lowly. "That's... handy."

"We must 'urry," Fleur said, already taking her first step. "Ze children are waiting."

* * *

Snape landed in Hogsmeade, stumbling a bit as he did so and found leverage against the moldy, grime-pasted wall of what used to be Hog's Head.

Hogsmeade had been long emptied out due to Potter's loss and the Death Eater's moving into Hogwarts, so Snape nonchalantly walked into an empty house across the street and began to rummage around, looking for a cloak and some potions.

While he scavenged around, Snape came across an old copy of the Daily Prophet. It was from five months ago and the only reason it caught Snape's shifty eyes at all was because of the large picture of a tight-lipped Harry Potter, glaring at nothing.

_**The Boy Who Lived's Defeat: The Rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named**_

Snape grabbed the paper by the edges and fell to ground, tired beyond belief. He had lost Lily and he couldn't protect her idiot son either. And even now, as L got involved in something that never should have involved him at all, he could not even hold himself up on his own two feet. How could he be so _useless_ at a time like this?

But Snape, slimy, tricky, surviving Snape, knew adaptation.

Quick, black eyes darted around the room before landing on the curtain rods and a dark smirk spread across dry lips.

"Perfect."

* * *

"Fuck!"

Charlie's curse rang down the hall as he neatly dodged a cutting curse, but got nicked on the side by a splinter hex. Without even looking over his shoulder, he sent a quick and rather dark jinx to the Death Eaters chasing after him and his group. He had to bite back a whoop when he heard a shriek of surprise from behind him.

"Security is tighter than we thought," Bill commented from his side, but he was sharing Charlie's excitement even if the others weren't.

"That's what makes it fun!" his brother crowed.

Bill barked a laugh and pointed ahead. "Dumbledore's office!"

The Retrieval Ops valiantly fought off the surrounding Death Eaters while Bill quickly read off a long list of muggle and wizard candies.

"Hurry up, Bill!"

"Cockroach Clusters, Blood Pops, Twizzlers, Hershey's Kisses—"

Charlie dodged a curse and sent a stunner in retaliation. The man on his right fell to the ground, dead. "Shit! Bill!!"

"Sugar Quill, Ice Mice, War Heads, Lemon Drops—"

The gargoyle moved, jumping to the side fluidly and it revealed the hidden passageway to the Headmaster's Office. And for the moment there was complete silence—

—before Order members and Death Eaters alike were scrambling to get into it, but with a few well placed physical attacks and curses from the Weasley-brothers, the Death Eaters were pushed back.

"Good save!" Charlie cried joyfully and Bill mock-bowed. "Thank ye kindly."

As they ran through the opening, the gargoyle jumped back into place behind them and Bill, an experienced curse-breaker, undid the password spell with little difficulty and put a new one in its place.

While his brother did this, Charlie assigned two others to guard duty, ordering them to make sure the passageway was not breached and if something happened to call for them and run. The pair nodded their heads, not minding this job as they were only relieved they survived their initial encounter with the Death Eaters.

After Bill had finished, he and the others who weren't assigned to the passageway walked up the spiraling staircase. Once they entered the office, Bill paused next to the antique mahogany desk to check for traps and when found he broke them efficiently. "It's clean now. Search it."

One of the older wizards jumped to it while Bill went around breaking other spells.

For several long minutes the group searched and searched only to come up with nothing. Time was coming up short and Bill found himself getting panicked and restless. He wondered morbidly what would happen if they never found Dumbledore's will at all; did that mean that this whole plan was just going to go to rot?

Just as his thoughts began to take a dark turn, Charlie called him over, pointing at a teak armoire that was hidden behind a enchanted curtain. "It only shows itself when opened by the hands of light."

Bill scowled at the implications his brother sent his way. He had opened those curtains himself and it showed naught but dust. Just because he was a bit wolfish now didn't mean he had to be insulted by it.

"Check it."

With only a frown and a bit of quick wandwaving, Bill did so and raised an eyebrow afterwards. "It's clean," he announced, which was strange since everything else in the room was very well protected. "Open it."

Only a beat after, Charlie grabbed the simple handles and wrenched the doors open. The brothers paused, not knowing what to do next as their eyes landed on a simple and unassuming vial as well as a single slip of parchment in the midst of nothing else. Bill reached for both, holding them delicately in his scarred hands.

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"It's... a memory."

The younger Weasley furrowed his brows at the answer, "Do you think it's—"

And whatever Charlie was going to ask was cut off by the sudden sound of an explosion from down below and Bill faintly realized that their time was up.

"Shit!" someone shouted, spelling defenses onto the office door. "What about Grant and Hunter?!"

"What about us?!"

Thinking quickly, Bill shoved the paper and vial into Charlie's lax hand and pushed him towards the window. "Go!!" he ordered but his brother hovered anxiously.

"What about you?!"

"Don't worry about me. Just go! We can't lose this war again!"

And while the remaining others protected the door with all their might and will, Charlie looked Bill in the eye and found only a fiery sort of determination, and his face twisted into a fierce expression of acknowledgment. "... be safe," he whispered in farewell and without a second to lose, he jumped out of the window, transforming into a dragon mid-fall.

Bill watched as Charlie disappeared into the darkness and grinned, baring vicious fangs at the inky sky. "Well then," he rumbled, turning back around and watching as the last defenses on the door fell, "let's get this over with."

And in the distance, Charlie fought to ignore the boom of a breaking door.

* * *

There was a moment of terse silence as children looked at the group of Death Eaters that stormed into their room without so much as a knock. Then it was broken when one of the younger girls sobbed and practically buried her face into the ground as she prostrated herself to the dark-robed figures. "Please," she begged, rubbing her hands together above her head, "please don't hurt us..."

Fleur flinched under her white mask and kneeled down, startling the young girl as she got closer. "Shush," she breathed, trying to comfort the girl as well as the other kidnapped students who huddled together in their own, wounded groups. "We will not 'urt you," she promised and lifted the girl back up to her feet.

This confused the children. During their time here the Death Eaters were nothing but cruel and mocking. Begging usually resulted in positive things, like enough pieces of bread for everyone, but this sort of kindness was different and it unnerved the children.

"Who..." the girl gulped, gathering some feeble courage, hoping the Death Eater before her would not hurt her, "who are you?"

Fleur smiled and slowly pulled off her mask, showing the young girl her beautiful face and gentle eyes. "We are 'ere to save you."

The others took Fleur's example and began to take off their own masks. With this motion, some of the children looked up with bright, hopeful eyes as they took in the kind faces and warm grins of each of the Order members. Some recognized one or two of the members and began to climb to their feet weakly. An excited sort of buzz began to rise amongst the children, and one of the boys grabbed his friend and crowed, "We're saved!"

Molly sadly watched the children as they cheered and jumped for joy, tears running down their dirty faces and smiles brightening their entire visage. The image was... heart-breaking. So many children gathered in one place, smothering their glee into each others' arms because they weren't going to die. Because they were going home.

"These poor things..." Molly gasped, wrapping an arm around herself to hold back tears. Fleur looked back at her mother-in-law with gentle eyes. Molly knew for herself that the more children one had, the more children one was able to lose, and Molly had already lost too much.

With a stern look, Fleur put the mask back onto her face and turned to her group, confidence rolling off her waves. "Our first and foremost mission iz to bring ze children to safety. Safety means we must do whatever necessary to avoid direct confrontation. _Comprenez-vous_?"

She was answered by a cheeky echo of, "_Je comprends_."

Huffing in mock-anger, Fleur turned back to the children and gave them all a warm smile that they could not see, but instead felt. "Now come. We must be leaving soon."

* * *

Harry pressed hard onto the open wound of a damaged wizard, trying to slow the blood flow. "Will he live?"

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired man and frowned. "Do you doubt me, Mr. Potter?"

"No," Harry answered wisely and quickly. He didn't even bother to correct her on his name and left her to quickly stitch up the man's open wound with practiced zig-zag motions with her wand. The ripped skin slowly twitched and stuck together, stopping the profuse bleeding. "This is just a temporary hold," Pomfrey admitted, and pressed the tip of her wand along the line of the red wound. "_Steti_."

The man howled in pain as his wound was stapled shut by burning magic. Harry forced him down with everything he had as the wizard bucked and tossed his body around, trying to escape Pomfrey's wand. But the mediwitch continued on without pause, wrapping her hand around the man's sternum she redirected her wand onto the wound again. "_Steti_."

Harry grimaced as the man fought harder against his grip. It probably wasn't the pain that set him off, but simply the feel of something sharp piercing his skin and entering him that terrified him into a state of sheer panic.

"No more! No more!!" the wizard begged, tears streaming from his eyes, and Harry felt his hold on the man waver.

Pomfrey snapped, grabbing Harry's wrist and shoving his hand back down again. "Keep your hands on him! He's not happy now, but it's what's best!" she barked, muttering the spell again and hardening her resolve as the wounded screamed.

Terrible. This was just terrible.

The quick surgery felt as if it had last hours, but it had only been a quick duration of five minutes. Once Pomfrey finished up with the man, she cleaned him with a spell and moved on, huddling over the next man and doing the same to him. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Harry bit back his own sickness at the sight of Hogwart's matron. Her hands were dyed red with thick, dark blood and her face was one of a warrior. Harry had a close relationship with Madame Pomfrey since he saw the woman so often as a child, and to know that she was as battle-hardened as the rest of the fighters on the field made his heart sink to his stomach. It was just a horrible sight.

And suddenly, an explosion sounded from the war zone, catching both Pomfrey's and Harry's attentions. Their eyes scanned the field but their view was deterred by a screen of smoke that was billowing widely from the ground...

… but there was scream that followed after, sending cold chills of horror and anticipation down Harry's arms and he instinctively clenched his hands into fists, almost as if he was holding his wand in his fingers.

"It's _him_!!"

"You-know-who!!"

A cackle followed the claims, wild and screeching, and immediately, Harry's scar burned.

"_Incendio!_"

A jet-stream of fire blew away the smoke and caught onto the leaves and bark of the trees lining the forbidden forest, making them burn black into ashes.

And the flames quickly spread.

The flickering and jolting flames cast an ominous shadow across the courtyard, as if there were a hundred more Death Eaters then there actually were. The effect was breathtaking and Harry realized, in the glow of the fire, Voldemort's eyes were hysterical and giddy.

"_Crucio_!!"

An order member fell victim to the unforgivable, screaming and clawing at themselves, hoping more pain would make him forget the initial hurt. Voldemort laughed wildly, arms swinging around as he casted curse after curse at anyone without a mask. His robes danced around him with his frenzied movements and he looked like death personified at that moment with his red eyes and black shadows.

Had Harry been more subjected to his emotions as L, he would've been terrified out of his wit. As it was, he simply crouched back down onto the heels of his feet and bit at the skin of his thumb.

Pomfrey looked at him with wide eyes before realizing she was quite busy and instead turned back to her next patient.

McGonagall stood strongly on the field, shouting orders and dodging spells with catlike reflexes. "Keep them at bay! Do not let them over run you!!" she hollered and slashed her wand through the air like a blade. "_Protego!"_

To her left, Remus knocked down another werewolf and growled ferociously, almost making Harry forget that he had taken his Wolfsbane potion. He barked something to an ally beside him and the she-wolf gave an affirmative with a nod of her snout. She and two others dashed up into the front where the gates of the school were and made to knock them down.

"_Confrigo!_" a Death Eater casted at the werewolf's back, but the curse bounced off her wiry skin and with her mighty claws, the she-wolf tore down the guarding gates of the castle as easily as knife through butter.

There was a great cheer on the Order's side. Hogwarts had been breached, they were slowly beginning to gain.

But even with this small victory, the difference in their numbers were making itself clear. As much as they tried, the Order could not push forward. They were being swamped by a sea of black cloth and white masks that surrounded them, making them vulnerable on all sides. They had held up well, but if the other groups did not start making their way to the main front, everything would be over before it even began.

Harry decided then that it was time. He looked to the burning trees and caught the glint of metal between the leaves and smiled. So they decided as well...

Although it went unnoticed at first, a Death Eater fell, an arrow sticking out from the back of his unprotected neck. Even as he died, the spells kept flying and the trees kept burning. And another Death Eater caught an arrow through his back, piercing his vitals with deadly accuracy. Then another, another, another...

And before the cluster of dark wizards realized they were under attack by a hidden enemy, their allies were no longer falling one-by-one, but in groups as many arrows came flying out with a shrill whistle from behind the shadows of the forest, hitting their intended targets without mistake.

"Shite!" one of the more vocal Death Eaters cursed. "_Protego!"_ he casted, knocking away an arrow that came for him. "Show yourselves you soddin' cowards!"

The attack paused with this demand and the trees shivered as the hidden figures appeared from behind their protective shadows. Horse hooves clopped against the grassy soil and powerful bodies of men straightened themselves, flexing muscles and fingering the edge of the arrowheads. Centaur after centaur showed themselves outside of the Forbidden Forest barrier, each one of them intent on protecting their homes and driving those who threaten their peace away.

"Jupiter is bright," the same voice from before spoke to Harry who didn't even flinch. Instead, the young man looked up at the fair-haired centaur beside him with a small, knowing smile. "Weren't you banished from your herd?" he asked without much thought on tact, but Firenze didn't seem to mind and only shrugged his shoulders; a very human gesture. "I am not fighting with them; I am simply fighting for myself."

Harry kept his comments to himself and asked instead, "Do you know what made them change their minds?"

"Your words, Jupiter, and the helpful fact that Magorian favors my younger brother Cain," Firenze said in a light tone, as if they were talking over tea and biscuits and not in the middle of an ongoing war that the centaurs involved themselves in, something that was simply unheard of.

Harry chuckled, somewhat flattered. "Will you not join them?"

"I will," Firenze answered, shifting the bow and arrows strapped across his strong chest. "And you, young Potter?"

Harry stared into the open, dark eyes taking in the fire and death calmly. This was his life since he was born; he was raised into who he was to defeat Voldemort. And he ultimately failed.

And died.

"I... think not," Harry answered, curling his fingers into fists to keep them from tracing the scar on his forehead. "For I am a mere muggle named L."

"L," Firenze repeated, tasting the name on his tongue before he shook his heavy head with a whinny snort. "If that is who you wish to be, then so be it." And he stepped out, strong and steady. A creature proclaimed a traitor by his own kind. Harry faintly wondered how a traitor could be so pure.

"Yet, listen to these words, _L,_" Firenze spoke gently, looking over his shoulder at the man on the ground. "There will come a time when you will have to throw away fear in order to protect a greater need. And if fear is the mask you wear, then you must discard it."

"... I don't know what you mean."

The centaur smiled knowingly, blue eyes twinkling. "Is that so?" he asked mysteriously and galloped away.

Harry watched after him, frowning deeply and holding his knees tighter together. Certainly it was not fear that held him back? Harry had no death-wish, but this did not mean he was scared of it. Right? The reason he was here today was because he was being forced into this war that he already once lost. He was not here as Harry Potter but as L, a simple muggle who knew his place and only wanted...

"For Freedom!!"

_Freedom_.

The centaurs rushed forward and the Order, with a triumphant cheer, followed their lead throwing stunners and hexes and even punches when deemed fit. Even with the centaurs, the Order was still outnumbered by the Death Eaters, but they saw victory and their lives afterwards. A life of simple and unadulterated freedom. This optimistic image drove them forward and pushed the straining Death Eaters back as they were being attacked from both sides.

Voldemort watched from the back, his tilted eyes were narrowed into pinched slits. He had lost his inner circle members in the first war against Potter so his firepower had decreased dramatically, but he had hoped the higher numbers of his men would have covered up that weakness. However, he seethed as he watched each of them drop like useless flies, victim to a spell or an arrow.

"_Fools_!!" the Dark Lord howled in fury and whipped his wand around over his head. "Don't try to push them back; _DESTROY THEM!!_"

With this order, as if he was making a point, Voldemort pointed his want at the first Order member that crossed his path of sight and hissed, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The jet of green light flew through the air and hit the she-wolf who tore down Hogwarts' doors. The werewolf's cry turned into a shrill scream as the woman turned back into her human form and collapsed onto the ground, her breath and heart stopped.

Harry shot up to his feet, eyes wide and furious. At the corner of his sight, he saw Remus and the other werewolves roar in rage, wrenching out soil and clawing out the barks of the tree.

"Horrible," Pomfrey choked out from behind him. Harry turned to face the mediwitch and watched as she fixed another broken bone with a simple wave of her wand. She was exhausted and Harry could see how her hand shook. "He's a monster."

Harry said nothing to the woman and turned back to the war zone instead and glowered.

Harry Potter was dead, but that did not mean the wizarding world was.

* * *

Charlie gasped for breath as he ran through the forest. He had flown a good way over the forest, but didn't want to attract attention to himself by flying right over the battle so he transformed back two miles away from the main gates and ran the rest of the way. He was beginning to get near the edge of the forest, hands wrapped tightly around the vial and the sheet of paper.

He honestly didn't have the time to look at either one, but this was all he had and even if it was just a humongous waste of time he wasn't about to throw them out. This was their only lead.

With panting breaths, Charlie ran the best he could between the trees, ignoring any cuts he obtained from loose branches or otherwise. He needed to get what he had to L—to Harry—to whoever the man really was.

And as he was running, Charlie saw the stumbling figure cloaked in black too late and fell to the ground heavily with a breathless grunt as he ran into someone else. Thinking it was a Death Eater, the red-headed man immediately pulled out his wand and steadied it upon the stranger who groaned and shook out his greasy, black hair—

"Snape?" Charlie called out in confusion and mild horror, even lowering his wand in his shock.

The said-man coughed brokenly into his hand and glared over his shoulder at his former student, his nose scrunched up in what seemed to be disgust at the other man's apparent clumsiness. "Mr. Weasley," he drawled darkly, still heaving for breath. "One would think that after experience with _dragons_ you would try to keep your eyes peeled open at all times to avoid... _accidents_."

Charlie said nothing and sat for a moment in stunned disbelief, trying to catch his breath. While they were both attempting to slow their racing hearts, Snape's black eyes landed on the items clutched in Charlie's deathly grip and he froze.

_Are those..._

With his hands on the trees, Snape picked himself back up to his feet and pressed his back against the trunk, looking down at Charlie who couldn't seem to move yet. That was good, Snape decided and pulled out Harry's wand from his back pocket and steadied it on the red-head who watched numbly with round eyes.

"Snape... what do you think you're doing...?" he asked, clutching his precious items closer to him. Even as he sat on the ground, legs trembling and worn, his mind was screaming fervently, '_Move Charlie! Curse him first or run! Run to L—to Harry!!'_

Snape sneered and tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. "I would think it's pretty obvious what I'm about to do, Mr. Weasley. But of course, you never very good in theory work."

Charlie grit his teeth and crossed his eyes, quickly raising his wand again. '_To Freedom!'_

"_STUPEFY!!"_

-be continued-

So... who stunned whom?


End file.
